HOLINESS; 



THE LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE 



A TALE 



SPENCER'S FAERIE QUEENE. 

\ < ..BY A )|[OTHi;S.;". •.;,.-.* ',, 

BOSTON: 
PUBLISHED BY E. R. BROADERS. 

1836. 



TR3 



zSt 



>T^ 



Entered according to an Act of Congress in the year ]836, 

By E. R. Bb.oa.bers, 

In the Clerk's office of the District Court of the District of 

Massachusetts. 



i, it) i 



BOSTON: 

Samuel N. Dickinson, Printer, 

52 Washington Street. 



PREFACE. 



Charles Lamb's Tales of Shakspeare, and 
James Cowden Clarke's Tales of Chaucer, sug- 
gested writing out the Legends of the Faerie 
Queene. For Spencer needs translation ; his 
obsolete dialect throwing him out of the reach 
of children, whom it is so desirable to interest 
in the elder writers of English literature, and 
to the youngest of whom a Tale of Chivalry is 
always delightful. 

But the peculiar charm of Spencer is, that a 
profound philosophy of moral life pervades it, 
which gradually dawns upon the reader — 

" A new morn risen on mid noon;" 
And this again and again, at the successive 
stages of experience : for his stories are an 
exhaustless mine of thought. 



IV. PREFACE. 

To aid the developement of the allegory, a 
few notes are added by the editor, who is not 
the author of the tale. But it was not in- 
tended to explain the allegory fully ; this would 
require as many pages as the Tale itself. 

The legends of Temperance, Chastity, Jus- 
tice, &c. are in manuscript, — a source of delight 
to such young persons as have access to them. 
They will come forth at the call of the public. 

December, 1835. 



LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE. 



CHAPTER I. 



The Patron of true Holinesse 
Foul Errour doth defeat ; 

Hypocrisie him to entrappe 
Doth to his home entreate. 



In days of yore, when the spirit of chivalry yet 
burned in every noble youth, there pricked forth one 
morning, over the dewy plain, a gentle knight ; 
bound by solemn oath to destroy a horrible dragon, 
that was ravaging the finest country of antiquity. 1 

He was clad in complete armour. His silver 
shield which was not new, was marked with dints 
of former battles ; 2 but this knight had never worn 
arms before, and the noble animal on which he rode, 
seemed unused to the bit : yet he wore his arms 
gracefully, and his horse yielded to his manage, as 
to one skilled in the noble art of horsemanship. 3 
On his breast he bore a bloody cross, in dear re- 
membrance of our Lord Jesus Christ, whom he 
1 



M LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

adored alive and dead. And the same was graven 
on his shield ; an emblem of his assured belief and 
sovereign hope, that he should receive his aid in all 
peril and dismay. 

Fairly did the young knight sit his horse, ready 
for knightly joust and fierce encounter. Right, 
faithful, true, he seemed, in word and deed ; but his 
air was solemn, for his purpose was high, involving 
much weal or woe to others. He seemed one whom 
an opposer should dread, but who could dread 
nothing himself. A lovely lady and fair, but veiled 
from head to foot, rode beside the knight, upon a 
lowly ass, which was whiter than snow. The lady 
seemed sad and heavy, as if she nourished some hid- 
den care, and inly mourned. And over her snowy veil 
she had thrown a black stole or cloak, an emblem of 
her grieved spirit. But she looked, and was, as inno- 
cent and pure as the milk-white lamb which she 
led, tied to her saddle bow by a silken thread. 

This lady was of royal lineage. Her ancestors 
were kings and queens, who had once reigned from 
east to west ; and had held the whole world in sub- 
jection, until a terrible dragon, having laid waste 
their kingdom with horrid uproar, had expelled the 
reigning king and queen. 

To avenge the wrongs of her much injured pa- 
rents, their fair daughter had besought the services 
of St. George, the noble knight of the Red Cross. 4 



OR HOLINESS. J 

She had found him at the court of Gloriana, queen 
of Faerie Land. 5 The knight was a devoted servant 
of Gloriana, and desired nothing on earth so much, 
as her grace and favour ; and Gloriana commanded 
him to do justice to the lady Una's cause, and prove 
his firmness, his honour, his virtue, and learn the 
power of his own right arm, in battle with that 
dragon, so terrible and stern. 

This brave knight and lovely lady, had no atten- 
dants except a dwarf, 6 who carried the lady's bag- 
gage, and who seemed to lag behind as if weary with 
his burden. 

During the greatest part of that day on which the 
knight and lady commenced their travels, the weather 
was fine ; not a cloud was seen ; it was one of those 
days when the heavens seem higher on account of 
the clearness and brilliancy of the atmosphere. But, 
suddenly, a cloud arose, the day was overcast, and 
a violent, terrific storm of wind and rain, drove every 
living thing to seek a shelter. The fair couple, who 
had rode thus far in thoughtful sadness, absorbed by 
the vast importance of events to come, were now 
obliged to think of their own safety, and seek some 
covert, from the pelting tempest. Not far distant 
they saw a grove of lofty trees, which seemed to 
promise security from wind and rain. 

The trees were clothed with the rich drapery of 
summer, and spread their broad arms so wide, and 



4 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

were so intertwined, so densely covered with foliage, 
that they almost excluded the light of heaven. En- 
tering this most glorious temple, built by Almighty 
Love, they found it crossed by wide footpaths, much 
worn, and leading deeper into the spacious interior. 
They passed onward, delighted with the sweet har- 
mony of the thronging birds who had flown thither 
to shun the tempest, and they seemed to sing in joy- 
ous exultation at escaping the cruel sky. 

Every tree of the forest was found in this won- 
derful grove. The pine, whose tall trunks furnish 
masts for our noblest ships ; proud cedars ; elms 
draped with vines of clustered grapes ; the polished 
poplar ; the kingly oak ; the funereal cypress ; the 
trembling aspen; the laurel whose varnished leaves 
form the conquerors' and poets' meed ; the weeping 
fir ; the willow sacred to forlorn and miserable lovers ; 
the pliant yew ; the birch ; the healing myrrh ; the 
useful ash ; the beech ; the fruitful olive ; the fair 
round plantain ; and the hollow maple : all grew and 
flourished in this one spot. 7 

The knight, the lady, and their attendant, wander- 
ed with delight among the trees and flowers of 
this magnificent temple of nature, till the storm sub- 
sided. They then endeavoured to return to the high- 
road, but in vain. The more they wandered, the 
more inextricable appeared the labyrinth. When 
they believed themselves just about to reach the path 



OR HOLINESS. 5 

desired, they would see that they were at the greatest 
distance from it ; paths seemed to multiply ; and their 
doubts about which they should take increased, till 
they absolutely feared that their own wits were wan- 
dering. At last, they resolved to go straight forward in 
the most beaten path till they reached some end of 
the labyrinth. Following this track, it finally brought 
them to a hollow cave, in the thickest part of the 
immense wood. The stout champion on seeing this, 
dismounted from his courser, and gave his spear, 
which was of no use to him then, to the dwarf. 

The lady mildly recommended prudence to the 
valiant youth : * Be well aware,' said she, * lest thou 
provoke mischief, by being too rash. The danger, 
if any, is hidden ; thou dost not know its extent nor 
its nature ; the place is wild, unknown, and unin- 
habited by beings like ourselves. Such circumstan- 
ces breed dreadful doubts. Fire often slumbers 
without smoke ; and there is often great peril, where 
we see no appearance of danger; therefore, sir 
knight, withhold all hostile strokes, till we have 
ascertained what dangers are hid in this cave.' 

1 Ah ! lady,' said he, c it were shame for me now 
to hesitate, because the danger is hid. I have armed 
in the cause of virtue ; and she will give me light, 
by which to penetrate through darkness deep as that 
of Erebus.' 

6 1 know more of the perils of this place £ replied 
1* 



O LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

the lady, ' than thou dost. It is indeed too late to 
wish thee to turn back ; that would now be foul dis- 
grace ; but Wisdom often warns us to stay our step, 
even after the foot is within the gate, rather than be 
forced to a retreat. This wood is called the Wan- 
dering Wood ; and this is the cave of Error, a vile 
monster whom God and man hate, therefore I say, 
beware ! ' 

* Oh, fly ! fly ! ' cried the terrified dwarf, * this is 
no place for living men.' 

But the youthful knight would not be checked. 
Full of fire, and greedy of hard earned fame, he 
hastened to the mouth of the den. It was deep and 
dark. He entered, and his glittering armour cast a fit- 
ful, uncertain light on a hideous object within ; but he 
saw the ugly monster plainly. She was half woman, 
half serpent ; loathsome, filthy, and her look was full 
of vile disdain. She lay stretched upon the earth, 
with her long huge tail spread over the whole den ; 
and yet, it was not unrolled, but wound up in knots, 
and every knot was pointed with a mortal sting. 
Around this frightful creature, were playing a thou- 
sand young ones, who were daily fed with her pois- 
onous milk. They were variously shaped, but all 
were ill favoured. When the light, from the armour 
of the adventurous champion fell upon this odious 
group of young monsters, they instantly crept into 
the mouth of their dam, who rushed forthwith from 



OR HOLINE SS. 7 

her cave, hurling about her head her hideous tail, 
which was now stretched out in its whole enormous 
length. She looked fiercely round, but seeing the 
armed knight, she was terrified, and attempted to 
turn back into her cave, for she hated the light, and 
loved darkness, where she could neither be plainly 
seen, nor see others plainly. 

When the valiant knight perceived that his enemy 
was about to fly from him, he sprang fiercely, like an 
enraged lion, upon his prey ; and boldly placed his 
sword across the mouth of the den. This act an- 
gered the monster, and she began to bray horribly ; 
and, turning about her speckled tail, armed with 
poisoned darts, she threatened to sting him. But he 
was not dismayed; and with his mighty arm, he 
struck her a violent blow, which glanced from her 
head to her shoulder. It made her dizzy for a mo- 
ment, and enkindled within her tenfold rage ; and 
gathering herself up into a posture for leaping, she 
sprang high, and winding her enormous tail about 
her, fell with fierce power, upon the shield of our 
knight, whose body she instantaneously enfolded in 
her fearful instrument of mischief; 

' God help the man, thus wrapped in Error's endless train I' 

Then the lady, when she saw her noble champion 
under such sore constraint, cried out ; ' Now, now, 
sir knight, show thy valour, and let us know what 



8 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

thou art ! Add faith in God to thy natural power, 
and faint not. If thou dost not strangle the monster^ 
she will assuredly strangle thee. 5 

When the knight heard this, perplexity, grief, 
anger, and disdain united to knit together all the 
forces of his mind and body; 8 and he freed one 
hand from the twisted monster. With this he 
grasped her throat, and with a power, that soon 
obliged her to uncoil the tail she had wound about 
him. 

But, determined on his destruction, she threw 
out from her filthy stomach a flood of poison, 
with lumps of flesh, that smelled so vilely, mortal 
man could not endure it. The knight relaxed his 
grasp, and turned from her in utter abhorrence: 
looking down upon the nauseous matters that she 
continued to throw from her beastly mouth, what 
was his astonishment to see books, and papers, 
with loathsome frogs and toads without eyes, that 
crept away among the weedy grass, to hide them- 
selves, as things abhorred. For so the monster de- 
filed all the place round about the den ; not un- 
like the Nile, which, proudly swelling above the 
vales of Egypt, spreads a fatty slime over the 
plains, and fertilizes wherever he leaves his rich 
heaps of mud, in which breed creatures, male 
and female, ugly and monstrous — such as are 
found in no other country. The noble knight 



OR H OLINE S S . V 

was so annoyed by such sights and smells, thatfhe 
grew faint, and could not fight. 

When the fiend perceived that his courage fal- 
tered, she poured forth all her spawn of infant ser- 
pents — deformed, monstrous, and black. They 
swarmed about the hero, crawled upon his legs, 
and encumbered him sorely; but they could not 
hurt him. They were as harmless to him as the 
musquitoes 9 which hover around some gentle 
shepherd, who stands on a high hill at even-tide, 
watching his sheep while they feed on the beauti- 
ful plains around and below him. 

At length, the knight, harassed by such vile 
means of annoyance, and more fearful of shame 
and disgrace than of death, rushed furiously upon 
the monster — resolved to conquer or die. And 
with more than mortal force, in one blow, he struck 
the head from her filthy body, and a stream of 
coal-black blood gushed from the headless corpse. 

The brood of young serpents, seeing their mother 
fall, and hearing her groans, gathered about her, 
and tried to find her mouth, their usual entrance 
to her body in times of danger or alarm. This 
was now closed for ever to them; therefore they 
flocked around her bleeding body, and sucked up 
their mother's blood, making her death the means 
of their life. This detestable sight shocked the 
valiant knight. He saw with horror these imps, 



10 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

accursed of heaven, devouring their mother; but 
while he gazed upon them, they began to swell in 
consequence of eating to excess. Yet they would not 
stop from the gluttonous repast, till they burst, 
and their bowels gushed forth upon the ground. 
c O ! worthy end of such as you,' exclaimed the 
knight, — 'you, who have drunk the life-blood 
of her that nursed you ! ' 

Thus ended the first adventure of our chival- 
rous youth ; and the lady, who from a distance 
had witnessed his heroic firmness, now approached 
to congratulate him on his victory. l Fair knight,' 
said she, 'thou wert born under a happy star, 
thy foe lies dead before thee. Thou hast proved 
thyself worthy of thine armour, in which thou hast 
this day won great glory. Thy strength has been 
tried upon a powerful enemy, and thou hast been 
successful. Mayst thou have many such adven- 
tures, and in all have like success.' 

The young knight then remounted his steed, and 
with the lady, went back from- the den, keeping 
the beaten path, and never turning either to the 
right or left. Patiently pursuing this straight course, 
it brought them at last into the high road, from 
which the tempest had driven them. They trav- 
elled a long way before any new adventure oc- 
curred; but the knight was patient and persever- 
ing ; God was his friend, and with his favor and 






OR HOLINESS, 11 

approbation, he doubted not that success and honor 
would reward his honorable efforts. 

After riding many miles, they met upon the 
road an aged man. He was dressed in a long 
black garment. His feet were bare, his beard grey ; 
and he had books hanging to the leathern belt 
which confined his cassock. He appeared sage and 
sober ; his eyes were bent upon the ground ; and 
he seemed engaged in prayer ; and by the frequent 
smiting of his breast, it seemed to be the prayer 
of a penitent. 

The knight saluted the venerable man with a 
lowly bend, which the old man returned with all 
the courtesy belonging to those chivalrous times. 
They then fell into conversation ; the young trav- 
eller inquiring of the old man if he knew of any 
strange adventures abroad. 

He replied, ' my dear son, alas ! how should a 
silly old man, secluded in a hidden cell from all 
intercourse with the world, and whose whole busi- 
ness, the long, long day, is telling his beads as 
penance for his sins, know any thing about adven- 
tures, of wars, and worldly troubles ? It does not 
become a holy Father to meddle with such affairs 
as these. But if you desire to hear of dangers that 
surround us, of home bred evils, I can tell you more 
than you may like to listen to ; I can tell you tidings 
of a strange man, that wastes all this country far 
and near.' 



12 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

'It is of such, 5 replied the knight, 'that I in- 
quire, and wish to hear ; and if you will guide me 
to the place where this destructive being harbours, 
I will give you a rich reward. It is foul disgrace 
to all knighthood, that such a creature has lived 
so long.' 

'It is very far from here,' said the old man, 
1 and in a vast wilderness ; and no living man can 
ever pass that dwelling place of his without ex- 
periencing great distress.' 

' It draws towards night,' said the lady to her 
companion, ' and thou art already over- wearied by 
thy late contest with the monster. No man is 
strong as not to require rest to renew his power 
The sun, that measures heaven during the day, 
sinks to rest with his steeds in the ocean waves at 
night. Like the sun, then, take thou a timely rest 
and begin a new day with new work. It is said 
that an untroubled night gives the best counsel.' 

' You are right well advised, sir knight,' said the 
aged man, ' you will win by taking wise advice. The 
day is too far spent for travel, and if it suit your 
wishes, fair lady, and yours, sir, let my cell be 
your inn to night.' 

The young travellers gladly accepted the old man's 
hospitality. His hermitage was lowly, and situated 
in a deep dale on the verge of a magnificent forest. 
It was far from the resort of people ; even from all, 



OR HOLINESS, 13 

who travelled the high way. Near it was a holy 
chapel, in which the hermit offered his daily devo- 
tions ; and a beautiful stream of chrystal water flowed 
round it. The stream issued from a sacred foun- 
tain, which welled up continually near a cleft rock, 
within sight of the consecrated spot. The hermitage 
was so small that the little party completely filled it. 
They neither received nor expected food. Rest was 
all the feast they wished for. Noble minds are al- 
ways content in the circumstances in which Provi- 
dence places them. The old man entertained his 
guests with pleasing words, of which he had a liberal 
store. His tongue was smooth as glass. He told of 
saints and popes ; said an Ave Maria between every 
tale he recited ; and kept his hearers most agreeably 
engaged till Morpheus weighed down their eye-lids 
with his sweet slumber-inspiring dew. 

When their host saw the wearied travellers obey 
a power they could not resist, with great show of 
hospitality, he provided lodging for each of the 
wearied travellers. But as soon as he knew they 
were sound asleep, the old magician went to his 
study, and there, among his magic books, and with 
arts of various kinds, he sought for the mighty 
charm, by which he troubled people who were 
asleep. He chose out a few horrible words, with 
which he framed some verses ; and, joining to these, 
other terrible spells, he called on the grisly wife of 
2 



14 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

Pluto ; cursed heaven ; and spake reproachfully of 
the God he had just pretended to adore. He was a 
bold bad man, who dared to call upon the name of 
one, who is styled the prince of darkness, the great 
Gorgon ; from whom it is said that even the river 
Styx flees in terror, and at whose name Cocytus 
trembles to its lowest depth. 

He next called to his assistance legions of 
sprites, and they fluttered about the head of this 
wicked man like flies, and inquired what services 
he demanded of them ; — whether to aid his 
friends, or frighten his enemies ? Having selected 
two, who were particularly cunning; who could 
tell lies, that seemed like truth ; to one of these 
he gave a message ; the other he retained with him- 
self, to do some other work of darkness. The mes- 
senger sped through the air, and through the world 
of waters, with the rapidity of light ; seeking the 
house of Morpheus, that god, who, it is said, dwells 
in the very bowels of the earth, where day never 
dawned, where Cynthia steeps his head in silver 
dew, and Tethys laves his bed with water, and 
Night spreads over him her dark mantle. 

The sprite found the doors of Morpheus' dwelling 
locked. One door was framed of burnished ivory, 
the other was overlaid with silver. Two dogs 
guarded these doors, lest Care should enter in, who 
is the enemy of sleep, and often troubles him. But 



OR HOLINESS. 15 

the sprite passed through the doors, and along by the 
dogs, unharmed, and placed himself by the drowsy 
Morpheus, who was drowned so deep in slumber that 
he took care of nothing. To lull himself to sleep, he 
had caused a gentle stream to flow down from a 
high rock near his house, and a soft rain to drizzle 
continually upon the roof. To these lulling sounds 
he also united that sweet murmuring wind, which, 
like the hum of bees, induces slumber. He allowed 
no noises, like those which annoy the sleeper in 
towns and cities, to be heard in all his domain, but, 
wrapt in eternal silence, he lay quiet, like one dead, 
and safe from all living enemies. 

The sprite, whom the old man sent, spoke repeat- 
edly to Morpheus before he could wake him. At 
last he rudely pushed and thrust him, till he pro- 
duced pain. This roused him a little and he stretch- 
ed himself and yawned. Then the sprite shook 
him hard, till he forced him to speak ; yet he spoke 
like one in a dream, mumbling softly to himself, as 
if he was troubled with strange sights and queer 
fancies. At last the sprite became impatient, and 
threatened the drowsy god with punishment from 
the dreaded Hecate. At this threat Morpheus rou- 
sed himself, and lifting up his lumpish head, half an- 
grily blamed the sprite ; asking him for what he came ? 

1 1 came hither,' he replied, ' in obedience to 
Archimago, him, who can tame the most stubborn 



16 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

sprites, and enforce their services. He bids you 
send to him a false dream, fit to delude sleepers.' 
Morpheus obeyed instantly; for he dreaded the 
power of that wicked magician, Archimago. He 
called, from the deep recesses of his dark prison- 
house, a dream, strange and diverse, and delivering 
it to the sprite, sunk down again to sleep, devoid of 
all care, and his senses completely benumbed. The 
sprite flew directly through the ivory door, cheerful 
as a lark, and flew homeward to his lord, bearing 
upon his little wings the fatal dream. 

Archimago, in the mean time, by his hellish arts 
and charms had formed out of the other sprite a 
beautiful lady. He took liquid air to form her love- 
liest features, and they were so lively and so like 
real life, that they would have deceived the wisest 
man, and even the old magician himself fell in love 
with his own workmanship, so goodly was it, and so 
natural. When he had finished making the lady, 
he wrapt her in a white veil, and threw over it a 
black hood or shorter veil, and she looked precisely 
like the beautiful Una, the companion and lady-love 
of the knight of the Red Cross. As soon as the 
sprite came back, who had been sent to Morpheus 
for the dream, — Archimago commanded him to 
fly to the couch of the knight, who, innocent, and 
free from evil thoughts, was sleeping soundly in the 
bed which Archimago had prepared for him ; and 



OR HOIINESS. 17 

he bade him abuse his fancy with false visions, 
which were to be so gross and wicked, that the old 
man told them privately to the sprite. 

Archimago next summoned the false lady that he 
had made, and whose mind he had filled with guile ; 
and he taught her how to imitate the true and beau- 
tiful Una, whom she exactly resembled outwardly. 
Being thus instructed, the creatures of magic went 
together to the recess where the knight slept. The 
sprite alighted on his head, and filled his brain with 
idle and wicked dreams, suggesting thoughts that 
never before entered his chaste and virtuous mind. 
He dreamed that his beloved Una had become en- 
slaved to pleasure ; that she had lost her purity, and 
wished to lead him into crime ; and that Venus, the 
sovereign queen of beauty, was leading the fair but 
corrupted woman to his chamber. Now as he had 
always thought of Una as a pure and holy being, the 
daughter of a king, and high, even above his hopes, 
such a dream shocked him, and disturbed his slum- 
bers. Presently he heard music, and imagined that 
he heard the Graces singing the nuptial song, called 
in his time Hymen io hymen ; and that he saw them 
dancing, and that Flora crowned Una with a fresh 
garland of ivy. He started from his sleep, greatly 
agitated. He feared that some hidden foe was trying 
to work his destruction. He always feared to do 
wrong, of nothing else was this noble youth afraid ; 
2 # 



18 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

therefore he kept strict guard even over his sleeping 
thoughts. Who then can realize his horror, when 
he rose from his distressing dream, to see his lady, 
his modest and lovely Una, standing at his bedside ! 

It was the false lady made by the wicked Archi- 
mago ; but of this, the knight knew nothing ; and 
he was utterly dismayed. Her snowy veil, partly 
shrouded in black, and her half concealed modest 
look, made him certain that it was indeed Una who 
stood before him; and enraged at her improper 
boldness in thus intruding upon him, he was about 
to kill her on the spot, but wisely paused lest his 
senses had deceived him. The false creature then 
began to wring her hands and weep, saying, ' Ah, 
sir, my liege lord, my only love ! cruel fate, and the 
wicked god of love have forced me to approach you 
unbidden ; upon you I depend for life or death ; for 
your dear sake I left my father's kingdom.' Here 
she burst into tears as if overcome by sensibility, but 
soon went on, < I am young and weak, and fly to you 
for succour, let me not die.' 

'Why dame,' he replied, 'What are you dis- 
mayed about ? What frightens you ? You, who used 
to comfort me in danger, and encourage me to brave- 
ry and perseverance.' 

She replied, c Love for you deprives me of sleep ; 
and while you are sunk in profound repose, I spend 
the long weary night in anguish.' 



OR HOLINESS, 19 

These words made the knight suspect her truth ; 
her love was too fawning, and he despised, yet was 
unwilling to disgrace her. Answering her therefore 
mildly, he said, ' Dear dame, I am sorry that for my 
sake such unknown griefs await you, I have ever 
deemed your love as dear as my life, and I hold my- 
self bound to you. So do not let any vain fears dis- 
tress you. There is no cause. Depart, therefore, to 
your rest.' 10 

She obeyed, for the false creature found that the 
good knight was proof against her arts. However, 
he was much disturbed ; for, as he believed it was 
his Una, with whom he had been talking, the idea 
took possession of his brain, that she was not so good 
as he once thought her ; and, for a long time, he 
could not sleep. At last he was so wearied that he 
sunk again to rest, and the mischievous sprite once 
more settled on his head, and made him dream 
about ladies' bowers, and many things, that were re- 
pugnant to his noble and correct principles. 



CHAPTER IT. 



The guileful great Enchanter parts 
The Red Cross Knight from Truth ; 

Into whose stead fair Falsehood steps 
And works him fearful ruth. 



It was nearly morning. The steadfast star, to the 
northern world a guide in all their wanderings over 
the mighty deep, shone faintly, as the fiery car of 
Phoebus began to climb over the eastern hill ; and 
the cheerful note of chanticleer had already given 
his warning to sleeping mortals, that day was ap- 
proaching, when those wicked messengers from hell, 
the false dream, and the sprite, who had assumed the 
form of the lovely Una, came to their cruel master, 
and told him that they had entirely failed of success, 
that all their pains to deceive had been bootless. 

Archimago was enraged when he found that his 
mighty skill had been of no use ; he raved at them, 
and threatened them with infernal pains, and the 
wrath of Proserpine ; but he soon perceived that his 
anger would be of no avail. The best way would 
be to search his books of art, and, by their aid, to 
contrive some new means of deceiving the young 



22 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

knight and his fair companion. So he took that mis- 
created woman, whom he had made with the imp 
and air, and placed her in a retired apartment ; and 
then he took the sprite which he had made to re- 
semble the false dream, and, enveloping him in a 
cloud of air, gave to him the appearance of a young 
esquire or gentleman, of gay manners, and light and 
fashionable habits. This youth he led to the apart- 
ment of the false lady, so like to Una outwardly, that 
none but the most careful observer could trace one 
shade of difference. The youth was directed to ap- 
pear very fond of the lady, and she was to treat him 
with all the tenderness she could bestow upon a hus- 
band. This done, the vile magician flew with ap- 
parent agony and terror to the room of the young 
knight, who, after many troubled dreams, had just 
sunk into a quiet slumber; and he called aloud, 
6 Rise, rise, unhappy swain ! Lie not here, waxing 
old in sleep, while your false lady gives all her Jove 
and sweet attentions to another. Rise, and with true 
knightly honour revenge your wrong ! ' 

The Red Cross Knight started up in amazement, 
and seizing his sword, followed the old man to the 
apartment, as he thought, of his Una. He saw the 
young couple ; his jealousy was awakened ; the eye 
of reason was darkened, and had it not been for the 
aged sire, the vile Archimago, he would have slain 
them both. 11 He returned to his bed in^torment and 



OR HOLINESS. 23 

bitter anguish. The guilty sight he had just witness- 
ed deprived him of rest, and eat into his very heart. 
He was tired of life, tired of the lingering night. 

At last the morning star extinguished his lamp, 
and brought forth the dawn. The knight rose, with 
a wearied spirit, and hastily putting on his armour 
summoned his attendant dwarf, 12 and rode rapidly 
away, leaving Una, whom the wicked magician had 
made him believe false and dishonored, alone and 
desolate. 

When the rosy fingered morning, weary of the 
saffron bed of aged Tithones, had spread through 
the air her purple robe, and discovered the high hills 
of Titan, the royal maiden, the innocent and lovely 
Una, shook off the drowsy feelings that hung about 
her, and went forth from her humble bower, to look 
after her knight. It is not easy to describe her sur- 
prise and anguish, when told that he had left her, and 
even taken away her dwarf, who was wont to wait 
with all duty upon her, every hour. She wept ; but 
she did not despair, resolving to be true to her plight- 
ed vows, and to follow wherever he had chosen to 
go. 13 The animal she rode was gentle, but slow of 
foot ; and with her utmost exertion she vainly en- 
deavoured to overtake the rapid courser, whose usual 
speed was increased by the anger and disdain that 
had seized the distracted knight and urged him on- 
ward, with unwonted fury. But though the lady 



24 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

found it impossible to overtake her lover, yet she 
gave no rest to her weary limbs. She searched every 
hill and dale, every wood, and every plain, to find 
him she loved ; her gentle bosom filled with grief, to 
think he had so ungently left her. 

The subtle Archimago, when he found his plan 
had succeeded, and that the faithful knight was part- 
ed from his lady love, and that Una was wandering 
alone through woods and forests ; was delighted at 
the success of his wicked arts, that had so destroyed 
the peace of two faithful and affianced lovers. He 
had meant to separate them ; but this did not con- 
tent him. Una was particularly hateful to him ; for 
how can truth be agreeable to hypocrisy ? He abhor- 
ed her more than a hissing snake, and exulted in all 
that he could make her suffer. Therefore setting his 
evil imagination to work, he determined to disguise 
himself; for by the mighty aid of magical science, 
he could take upon himself as many forms as Proteus 
could. Sometimes he was a fowl in the air, some- 
times a fish swimming in a lake; then again he 
would be a fox ; and then a dragon ; and was often 
himself frightened at the horrid forms he assumed. 
What power there is in herbs ! And who can con- 
ceive the wondrous might of magic ! At this time, 
he resolved to assume the semblance of the Knight 
of the Red Cross, that he might pursue and deceive 



OR HOLINESS. 25 

the beautiful Una, and work her farther harm in one 
way or another. 

Accordingly he clothed his limbs in armour, took 
a silver shield, and wore upon his coward breast, a 
blood Red Cross. He wore also a bunch of various- 
ly coloured hair upon his crest ; and he looked in all 
respects, when seated upon his free and noble cour- 
ser, like St. George himself. 

Alas ! the true St. George, whose semblance he 
thus put on, was wandering far away, flying from 
his own thoughts and from his jealous fears ; guided 
only by Will led astray by grief! While he was 
driving, he neither knew nor cared whither, in true 
anguish of spirit, a faithless Saracen chanced to 
meet him. He was completely armed, and Sansfoy 
was written in large letters on his enormous shield. 
He was tall, large of limb, and cared neither for God 
nor man. The knight had with him a fair com- 
panion, a goodly lady ; she was clad in rich apparel, 
of scarlet, gold and pearl. She wore upon her head 
something that resembled a Persian mitre, ornament- 
ed with crowns, and golden buttons ; a present be- 
stowed upon her by her lovers. Her palfrey also 
was adorned with tinsel trappings woven like waves, 
and her bridle was decorated with golden bells, 
and other ornaments. She rode gaily by the side of 
the knight, and entertained him with light and frivo- 
3 



26 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

lous discourse. But when she saw St. George, the 
Knight of the Red Cross, advancing, she checked 
her mirth, and bade her own knight prepare for com- 
bat. She told him his foe was at hand, and now was 
the moment to prove his valour. This roused his 
pride, and hoping to win the heart of his lady by his 
prowess, he spurred his horse, so cruelly, towards 
the Red Cross Knight, that his sides were bathed in 
blood, which stained the path way as he rode. 

St. George, when he beheld him spurring on with 
such hot unpitying rage, couched his spear, and rode 
towards him, and they met with equal fury. Their 
steeds staggered and stood amazed, stunned with the 
force of the fierce encounter, and the knights them- 
selves were astonished at the strokes of their own 
hands, and recoiled from each other. They were 
like two rams, roused by ambitious pride to fight for 
supreme rule over a flock of richly fleeced sheep. 
Their horned fronts meet on either side with such 
sudden power, that the shock terrifies and astonishes 
both ; and they stand senseless as blocks, forgetting 
that the victory is yet undecided. So stood the 
knights, unmoved as rocks, staring fiercely, and each 
holding the broken relics of former cruelty in his 
palsied hand. At last, they began to breathe again, 
and the Saracen, though sorely stunned with the 
blow, snatched his sword, and furiously assaulted 
the Red Cross Knight, who returned blow for blow ; 



OR HOLINESS. 27 

and each envied the strength and power of the other. 
They severally try to find some spot in their mailed 
armour through which a sword can enter. Neither 
yields one foot to the other ; the fire flashes from 
their burning shields, as from a forge; and blood 
flows in streams over the grassy heath. 

' Curse on that cross,' exclaimed the Saracen, ' it 
is that which keeps thy bosom from my sword. 
Dead long ago, thou wouldst have been, if that charm 
had not protected thee ; and yet I warn thee not to 
be secure^thy head may yet be mine.' So saying, 
he aimed a furious blow at the crest of St. George, 
hewed away a large part of it, and his sword glanced 
down the silver shield with astounding force. Won- 
drous wroth, at receiving so severe a blow, St. George 
roused himself anew ; the sleeping^spark of native 
virtue was rekindled, his arm renerved, and with an 
irresistible power, he clave thehelmet of the haugh- 
ty Saracen and inflicted a mortal wound ; Sansfoy fell 
in the agonies of death from his horse to the blood- 
stained earth. A few moments the soul struggled 
with the perishing body, and then fled to that world 
where souls that have lived amiss, must render an 
account to Him from whom they received power to 
be good. 

When the lady saw that her knight was slain, 
and beheld him fall like the ruins of some broken 
tower from the noble courser that he so lately graced 



28 L E*G END OF ST. GEORGE, 

with knightly beauty, she fled in dire dismay. The 
Knight of the Red Cross commanded his dwarf to 
take charge of the Saracen's shield as the trophy of 
his conquest, and himself rode rapidly after the 
lady. He soon overtook her, and with great cour- 
tesy assured her she had no cause for dismay. Turn- 
ing back, she looked up, with a sad countenance, 
crying, < mercy, mercy, sir knight! vouchsafe to 
show mercy to a silly dame, subject at the same 
moment, to so severe a mischance, and to your 
mighty will.' 

Her humble tones, and her rich and seemingly 
glorious attire, moved the heart of the heroic knight. 
' Dear dame,' said he, * your sudden misfortune af- 
flicts me ; but put apart all fear, and tell me, who 
you are, and who he was, that I but now have reft 
of lifer' 

The lady melted into tears, and began her la- 
mentation in these words : < I am a wretched wo- 
man, whom one unhappy hour has betrayed into 
your hands, and made subject to your will. But, 
before this cruel moment, I was (O, what avails it to 
tell what I was!) the sole daughter of an emperor, 
who reigned over western Europe, and had his high 
throne on the far famed Tiber. My father, in the 
first and freshest flower of youth, bethrothed me to 
the only son and heir of a mighty monarch ; one 
who was rich and wise. The prince was faithful, 



OR HOLINESS. 29 

beautiful in person, meek yet gay, brave yet gentle, 
and full of princely virtues. But — my bridal day 
never came. My dearest lord fell from his high 
honors, by the arts of a cruel foe ; and was mur- 
dered. His body, ( I never knew how nor by 
whom,) was removed, and hid from me. He died 
innocent ; and my sorrow was so deep, my sad soul 
so full of woe, that I resolved, as the only solace I 
could have, to find his loved remains, and have travel- 
led throughout the world, alas, in vain ! for that one 
only object. This proud Saracen met me in my 
wanderings, and has led me by force, ever since, 
wherever he chose to go, striving to win my love ; 
but 1 abhorred the wretch, always proud and now 
dishonored. He was the eldest son of a bad father, 
and was called proud Sansfoy. He had two broth- 
ers, the older of whom is called the bloody bold 
Sansloy, and the younger is simply named Sans- 
joy. You see me therefore in a sad plight, friend- 
less, unfortunate, and miserable. Do not, sir knight, 
injure the unhappy Fidesse. If it does not please 
you to do me any service, I entreat that you would 
not do me any ill.' 

The words of this seemingly afflicted and lovely 
lady, excited strong emotion in the knight, who 
eyed her beautiful person with even more attention 
than he paid to her sad story, and he said, 'fair 
lady, a heart of flint would be moved by such a 
3* 



30 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

tale of woe and sorrow, as you have related. Hence- 
forth you may rest in safety. You have found a 
new friend and lost an old enemy. 5 

At these words, the seeming simple girl looked up 
with a cheered countenance, and letting her eyes 
fall modestly towards the earth, yielded to the 
knight's proposals and they rode on their way; he 
feigning a becoming mirth, and cheerful conversa- 
tion, and she assuming coy looks, and a modesty of 
deportment, entirely foreign to her nature. 

They travelled for a long time in this manner, till 
they became weary, and desirous to find some favor- 
able spot, in which they could repose themselves. 
The good Knight at last espied two large and beauti- 
ful trees, within a few rods of the path in which they 
were riding. Their broad arms spread wide in every 
direction, richly coated with moss, and bearing a 
thick foliage of deepest green. The delicate leaves 
trembled with the passing gale, and cast a deep and 
calm shadow over a turf, which was enamelled with 
flowers of rarest beauty. Yet, at these trees the 
fearful shepherd looked aghast, and never sat be- 
neath them, never tuned there his merry oaten pipe ; 
but shunned them in undisguised dismay. 

But the knight, in his single heartedness, uncon- 
scious of evil, rode hastily to take advantage of the cool 
shade they afforded ; for the golden chariot of Phcebus 
had reached its highest point in heaven, and he was 



OR HOLINESS, 31 

hurling thence vertical beams, so scorching hot that 
no living creature could abide them. The lady, 
almost fainting from the intense heat, eagerly fol- 
lowed her companion to the refreshing shade. 
Both alighted from their weary steeds, and seated 
themselves on the rural seat, which nature appeared 
to have formed there on purpose to accommodate 
a tired traveller. The spot was delightful; the 
young knight began a lively pleasant conversation, 
in which the lady joined with all imaginable grace 
and modesty, and to his abused fancy, she appeared 
the loveliest creature he had yet seen. With gentle 
wit, and most refined manner, he bent all his powers, 
to amuse and entertain the fair being, so strangely 
cast upon his protection. He looked up to the 
beautiful tree, beneath which they sat, and thought a 
garland of the rich and delicate leaves would become 
her snowy forehead : — he plucked a bough ; but, 
wonderful to relate ! drops of blood trickled from 
the broken limb, and, after a piteous yell of agony, he 
heard these words pronounced, ' O spare me ! do 
not with guilty hands tear my tender sides. I am 
embedded in this rough bark ! Fly, fly away ! — 
ah ! fly far hence, lest the same horrid fate overtake 
you, as that which has imprisoned me here forever ; 
and not me only, but also my dear and wretched 
lady. — O, too dear! for her love was bought by 
death ! ' 



32 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

The knight, astounded, was stiffened with hor- 
ror ; his hair rose, he could not move a limb ! 
When the first effect of the sudden and dreadful 
shock had passed, and his manly spirit began to 
awaken from the stupifying blow, he still mused 
in deep astonishment, and even doubted his senses : 
it was so strange, that conjecture could afford no 
reason ; at last he exclaimed : ' What voice from 
the lake of limbo — what condemned ghost — what 
guileful sprite, wandering amid illimitable air, utters 
such words as have just met my astonished ear ? — 
Who complains thus ? Who bids me spare guilt- 
less blood ? ' 

Deeply groaning, the tree replied, 'It is not a 
damned ghost, neither is it a guileful sprite that 
speaks these words to you. I am now a tree, but 
once I was a man. My name was Fradubio. — I 
am wretched in both my natures, as a tree and as a 
man ; for, though appearing to be a tree, I experience 
suffering both from heat and cold. The blast of 
Boreas falls bitter upon me, and the scorching sun 
dries up my secret veins. I was transformed to this 
tree by the cursed arts of a most cruel witch, and by 
her placed in this open plain, exposed to all the ex- 
tremes of heat and cold.' 

'Say on,' said the good knight, 'say on, Fra- 
dubio; whether thou be man or tree, tell whose 



OR HOLINESS. 33 

mischievous arts misshaped thee thus. It is medi- 
cine to the afflicted mind to obtain sympathy for 
imparted griefs — hearts are doubly pained that 
conceal their sorrows, as flames rage the fiercer, 
when ineffectual means are taken to suppress 
them.' 

6 Sir knight,' replied the metamorphosed Fra- 
dubio, i I will tell thee the story of my sorrows. A 
sorceress, named Duessa, was the author of them all, 
who has brought wretchedness upon many a knight 
errant beside me. When I was in the prime of 
youth, full of courage, and fired with the joy of 
chivalrous exploits, it was my fate to love this 
gentle lady, who, though she seems to you a tree, 
was then a fair and lovely woman. We were riding 
one day, and chanced to meet a knight, who was 
also accompanied by a fair lady. This lady was 
the false Duessa. As we rode on together, the 
stranger knight began to boast of the exceeding 
beauty of his fair companion. He insisted that she 
exceeded all other women, in the charms of mind 
and person. 

I, in turn, defended my own loved lady, who 
shone in her beauty like the morning star. Our dis- 
pute became bitter, and at last, a battle alone could 
decide the important question. To it we went, with 
the blind fury of madmen. I killed the knight, and 



34 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

his beautiful lady was the prize awarded me by 
the law of arms. 

I was now doubly loved : — one lady seemed to be 
fair, the other was really so. Long in doubt which 
was in fact the most beautiful of these Ladies, I de- 
termined to compare them critically with each other, 
and to give to the most charming a garland of 
roses. I could not decide, both appeared to win. 
Frselissa was as fair as mortal woman could be ; but 
the false Duessa could, by her arts, assume a form 
equally fair. I knew not what to do ; both won 
the garland ; but both could not possess it. The 
cruel witch soon perceived the difficulty she had 
placed me in, and determined by farther efforts of 
her hellish arts to deceive me still more, and oblige 
me to yield the garland to her at once. 

She accordingly raised about us a foggy mist; 
the day became overcast; and presently a dull blast 
swept along by us, and breathed on the face of my 
loved Fraelissa ; 15 it dimmed her beauty, and gave to 
her graceful limbs a look deformed and horrible. 
I hesitated no longer, but gave the garland to the 
seemingly fair Duessa. 

As soon as she received it, she began to exult over 
the injured and unfortunate Freelissa. i Fie, fie,' 
she cried out, in a tone of triumph, ' thou art de- 
formed and horrible ; where didst thou get thy bor- 



OR HOLINESS. 35 

rowed beauties which have so bewitched our valiant 
knight? It is plain that by some magic art thou 
didst array thyself, which fails thee now, and leaves 
thee to be disdained, rejected — aye, and it may be, 
killed.' Hearing this, I believed that Freelissa was 
a sorceress, and that I had bestowed my love on no 
other than an imp of darkness. Enraged beyond con- 
trol, I should have killed her on the spot, if the 
vile Duessa had not restrained my hand, and trans- 
formed the wretched lady to this tree, that thou 
seest placed so near me. 

Completely deceived by the artful woman, who 
appeared more beautiful than language can describe, 
I transferred to her my whole affection ; she became 
my wife, and I enjoyed for a long time the greatest 
happiness; but one day, O, never can that day be 
forgotten ! the dreadful truth was disclosed to me. 
Witches, on a certain day in every year, are obliged 
to do penance for their crimes in their own forms. 
It chanced that on that day I saw Duessa disrobed 
of all her borrowed beauties, and bathing in water of 
orange and thyme ; and to my horror and astonish- 
ment 1 saw that she whom I had so long loved, and 
for whose sake I had forgotten my beloved Fraelissa, 
was a filthy, disgusting old woman, misshapen and 
monstrous, so beastly in appearance that man never 
could believe her human! What could be done? 



36 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

I could no longer lavish caresses on a being whose 
real deformities had thus met my eye, and yet I 
dreaded her power. She was a witch ; this was 
undoubted ; and I well knew she had power to 
destroy me ; and if I refrained from her society she 
would suspect my truth, and wreak upon me her 
vengeance. I endeavoured to withdraw gradually, 
and hoped to slide unperceived from the toils she 
had wound about me; for I loathed the deceptive 
monster and could not touch so foul a thing. My 
change of look and manner were too apparent. 
She perceived my purpose, and one night, when fa- 
tigue and anxiety had drowned my senses, and I 
was sunk in profound repose, she besmeared my 
body with wicked herbs and ointments, and 
through their power, with other charms of magic, 
she bereaved me entirely of sense. When this was 
done, she had me conveyed to this desert waste, 
placed me beside my wretched lover, enclosed me 
fast in these wooden walls, and condemned us both 
to spend our weary days, banished from living soci- 
ety, exposed to raging elements, unpitied and un- 
known.' 

'And how long,' said the Red Cross Knight, 'are 
you condemned to live in this misformed house ?' 

' We cannot change, and return to human shape,' 
replied Fradubio, 'till we are bathed in a living 



OR HOLINESS. 37 

Well. Such was the sentence, that has spell-bound 
us to this desolate spot.' 

c How may I find that Well,' inquired the knight, 
c that will restore you again to the form and bearing 
of humanity?' 

6 1 know not,' said the disconsolate Fradubio ; 
'when the fates are satisfied with our sufferings, 
perhaps it will be found, and we shall be restored to 
our own shape, but till that time, no human power 
can remove us.' 

Now the lady, whom the knight had won by 
the death of the Saracen, was no other than that 
very witch Duessa, who had fixed these two miser- 
able lovers on this desert plain. She heard all that 
Fradubio had spoken, and knew that he had spoken 
truth. But the good knight was full of fear: a 
living tree had spoken to him ; he had seen it bleed ; 
he stood aghast at the sound and sight so strange. 
At last, that he might be innocent of the blood of 
this wonderful tree, he stopped the wound with 
some clay, and thrust the broken bough into the 
ground. Then turning about to see how his lady 
bore so astonishing a scene, he beheld her sunk upon 
the earth in a deadly swoon. 

The artful creature pretended to faint from fear 

and horror, at hearing what she already knew ; and 

her faithful knight, believing that she had really 

fallen into a deadly swoon, took great pains to re- 

4 



38 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE. 

store her; she had assumed a pallid hue, as if 
dead; but when he breathed upon her eye-lids, 
bathed her temples, raised her tenderly, and kissed 
her pale cheek, and with many other kind efforts, 
endeavoured to rekindle the spark of life, she 
opened her eyes and smiled upon him, with a look 
so true and sweet, that all fears passed from his 
mind, and they soon resumed their eventful journey. 



CHAPTER III. 



Forsaken Truth long seeks her love, 
And makes the lion mild 5 
Mars blind devotion's mart, and falls 

In hands of villain vild. 



There is nothing under the wide cope of heaven, 
that moves the mind more strongly to compassion 
than beauty suffering: ;unjustly, through envy and 
the freaks of unkind fortune. I know not why it is, 
whether I am blinded by her charms, or whether 
the heart owes allegiance and fealty to all woman- 
kind, but it is true, that my heart is pierced with 
agony, and I well nigh die with pity, when I view 
the unjust sufferings of a young and lovely woman. 
Most deeply therefore do I feel the wrongs of the in- 
jured Una, whose misfortunes I cannot relate 
without tears of compassion, and indignation. She 
was as true, as touch ; as guileless, as fair ; as virtu- 
ous, as living lady could be ; yet a vile wizard 
had parted her by cruel deceptions from her valiant 
and true hearted knight ; and a witch, ugly and de- 
formed, was enjoying the love and confidence due 
only to his own betrothed Una. 



40 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

But this most faithful lady, though forsaken, wo- 
ful, solitary, strayed through the wilderness, through 
wild desert wastes, far from the haunts of men. 
She became an exile, a self banished wanderer, in 
hopes of finding her loved, but deceived and be- 
trayed knight — betrayed by the vision, which the base 
enchanter had wrought, as was before related. One 
day, this lovely lady, well nigh wearied by the irk- 
some slowness of the quiet animal on which she 
rode, alighted, to repose her delicate form. She dis- 
covered a cool retreat in deep shadow. It was se- 
cure from the view of travellers, and she fearlessly 
extended her weary limbs upon the grass ; untying 
the fillet that bound her fair hair, and laying aside 
the stole, which had shaded her from the burning 
sun, and from the rude gaze of idle curiosity. Her 
angel face shone like the great eye of heaven, 
making sun-shine in the shady place. Mortal eye 
never beheld such heavenly grace and beauty. 

Thus, safely hidden from danger, as she believed, 
she was enjoying gentle repose, so needful after her 
long and wearisome journey through lonely paths 
and unfrequented forests, when a lion, hungry, furi- 
ous for blood, sprung suddenly from the thicket, 
towards the astonished maiden. He opened his 
enormous jaws as if determined to devour at once 
her beautiful form ; but, gazing an instant at his vic- 
tim, his fury subsided ; he seemed amazed ; remorse 



OR HOLINESS. 41 

for his cruel purpose quelled his mighty force, and 
instead of tearing her graceful limbs, he crept gently 
towards her feet, kissed them, and with his fawning 
tongue, licked affectionately her lily hands, seem- 
ingly conscious that he beheld an innocent and in- 
jured being. How powerful is beauty ! how it sub- 
dues the violent and masters the strong ! And truth, 
simple truth ; who can withstand its touching appeals 
to the heart! The distressed Una, the royal and 
beautiful maiden, who had suffered long by the cru- 
elty of others now prepared herself to die. She saw 
however, after a few dreadful moments, that the 
pride of the kingly beast appeared to be yielding, 
and that he drew near gently, but with proud submis- 
sion, and began expressions of endearment in the 
manner suitable to his brute nature. 16 

Her heart melted into compassion at the sight, and 
tears of pure affection bathed her cheek. For, see- 
ing the lion, the proudest of animals, the lord of 
every beast that roamed the forest, bowing his 
princely nature, forgetting his hunger, and submit- 
ting his pride of strength to her, a weak and helpless 
woman, it brought home to her heart the conduct of 
her noble lord. ' How, how,' she exclaimed, < does he 
find it in his cruel soul to hate one, who adored him, 
and loved him as the god of her life? This lion 
pities me. Why does my lion, my betrothed one 
abhor me ?' Tears choked her utterance as her sad 
4# 



42 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

plaint was echoed from the neighboring wood. The 
kingly beast gazed upon her with a calm and pitying 
eye ; he seemed to read her sorrows in the anguish 
of her looks and words. At last, however, by a 
powerful effort, she subdued her spirit ; shut closely 
within her heart, its keen distress; bound up her 
flowing hair ; resumed the friendly veil, and, re- 
mounting her snow white palfrey, began anew her 
heart trying wanderings. The noble lion beheld her 
desolate condition, and meekly followed the fair 
traveller. He seemed to assume the office of guar- 
dian to her person, and of a faithful mate, to share all 
her troubles and misfortunes. When she slept, he 
kept watch and ward, and when she waked, he wait- 
ed diligently, as if prepared to do her bidding ; gazing 
on her lovely features, and striving to learn her wishes 
by their expression. 

Accompanied by this strange companion, she trav- 
elled a long time, through wide deserts where no 
human being once crossed her path or met her view, 
still hoping to meet her wayward knight ; again and 
again sickened by the qualms of disappointment. 
One day, after a long and tedious interval, when her 
heart was sore oppressed, and every limb wearied by 
excess of fatigue, she observed that the grass beneath 
the feet of her palfrey, was trodden down, and that 
the tracks of human feet were plainly discernible. 

The path ran along the foot of a mountain ; she 



OR HOLINESS. 43 

followed it, and at last saw a young damsel, walking 
slowly and sadly with a pitcher of water on her 
shoulder. Una called to her repeatedly, asking if 
there was any dwelling place at hand ? The rude 
wench hurried on without answering; for she could 
neither hear, nor speak, nor understand. She 
chanced, however, to look back, and seeing a mon- 
strous lion so near to her, threw down her pitcher in 
dismay, and fled rapidly towards her home. Never 
before had been seen in that land, the face of a fail* 
lady ; and the dreadful lion almost frightened her 
into a deadly swoon. But she fled with such rapid- 
ity, never once looking behind her, that she soon 
reached her mother's cottage. Her mother was 
blind, and sat in one eternal night. When the girl 
arrived, she was so overcome with terror, that she 
could not speak, but violently grasped her mother's 
hand. Then suddenly closing the door, she again 
laid her quaking hands upon her astonished parent, 
evincing by every movement the extremity of fear. 

It was not long before Una arrived, the weary 
Una, and required entrance at the cottage door. 
But the old woman and her daughter were too much 
terrified to open it ; and the lady's unruly page, the 
powerful lion, without ceremony undid the wicket, 
with his rude claws, and gave her entrance, before 
the terrified inmates recovered any presence of mind. 
They had both sunk into a dark corner of the hut, 



44 



LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 



a retreat in which the poor blind old woman, prayed 
most of the day and night; counting her beads in 
devout penitence, and repeating more than two thou- 
sand Aves as her daily task. To increase the pains 
of this heavy self-imposed duty, she sat three times 
every week in ashes, wore next her shriveled skin a 
rough sackcloth, and fasted nine times in every 
twenty-seven days. Her terror at the fright and 
agitation of her daughter, had now made her forget 
her beads ; at this sin she was greatly troubled, and 
the compassionate Una had much difficulty to soothe 
and comfort the ancient devotee. After she had in 
some degree effected this, and quieted the fears of 
her daughter, she begged permission to remain in the 
cottage all night. It was granted, and the sad lady 
laid down to refresh her weary limbs. But she could 
not sleep ; she lamented, and wept ; the loss of her 
dear loved knight wrung groans and sighs from her 
faithful bosom, which was bathed in tears the live 
long night, and she looked impatiently for the dawn 
of day. But gazing anxiously upon the star lit 
heavens, she perceived that Aldebaron had mounted 
high above the chair of the brilliant Cassiope ; that 
day was far distant ; and that perforce she must pa- 
tiently wait its coming, and the waking of the cotta- 
gers, who lay drowned in deadly sleep. 

At this moment, she was alarmed by a loud knock 
at the door. One was there who seemed resolved to 



OR HOLINESS. 45 

enter, he knocked louder, cursed, swore, commanded 
that he should have immediate entrance, but no one 
obeyed. The frighted cottagers dared not move ; for 
the lion watched beside the mourning Una. 

The man at the door became more and more an- 
gry ; he bore upon his back a heavy load of stolen 
goods, and goods which he had purchased unfairly. 
He was a stout sturdy thief, who robbed churches, 
and stole money from the poor's box, which holy 
saints had deposited there for needful relief. He 
could creep, by cunning sleights, into windows where 
holy men reposed, and rob them of their vestments ; 
in truth, no one could keep the habiliments of church- 
men in safety; it seemed to be his chief business and 
delight to steal them, and all things that he procured 
honestly or dishonestly, he deposited in the hut of 
this old blind crone, with whom our fairest Una had 
been forced to tarry in consequence of extreme fa- 
tigue. He pretended to love the daughter of the 
blind woman, and brought her rings, and gold, and 
with all unholy acts sought her base caresses. The 
old woman was called Corceca, 17 the daughter, 
Abessa. 17 Upon Abessa he lavished all the luxuries 
of the land; feasted her with rarest fruits, and meats 
of delicate flavour. Of course, his rage and aston- 
ishment knew no bounds, when he was debared en- 
trance to the house, but his rage and blows were of 
no avail, the women dared not move, while the ter- 



46 



LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 



rible lion guarded the door. At last the robber's 
patience was all gone, and he broke open the door in 
great fury, and was entering. But the lion roused 
himself, with fierce disdain and anger, seized the 
trembling wretch, in his cruel claws, and placed him 
under his lordly foot. It was of no use to call assist- 
ance, or to resist the power of the lion. In a mo- 
ment his heart was torn from his bosom, his limbs 
rent in pieces, and his blood flowing over the thirsty 
ground, which soon drank up his life. 

The proud avenger lifted the disfigured corse, and 
laid him down again by the innocent but astonished 
Una. When Abessa beheld the fearful sight, the rent 
limbs and bleeding body of one who had lavished his 
wealth upon her, and who loved her, in such sort as 
the wicked can love, she shrunk back with horror, 
but dared neither weep nor even appear to under- 
stand the heavy misfortune; for the terrible beast 
who had torn the thief in pieces was glaring with 
suspicious eye on her. 18 

The day was now discovering to the awakened 
world, earth, sea and sky. Up rose the sun, and up 
rose Una. The lion, observant of her motions, rose 
also, and prepared to renew with her the purposed 
journey, through ways unknown. For though un- 
successful, Una was not discouraged, and still reso- 
lutely determined to seek for her wandering knight, 
so long as life and strength were granted her. Not 



OR HOLINESS. 47 

with such zeal and firmness did the wandering Greek 
return his long and tedious way to Ithaca, and refuse 
for the love of fair Penelope, to be ranked with gods, 
as did this gentle but royal maiden, resolve to con- 
vince her wayward lover, that she was wronged, un- 
justly left alone and desolate. 

Soon as Una and her powerful page had departed 
from the door, the blind woman, and her daughter 
rose from their hiding place, and came forward to 
look at the murdered Kirkrapine. Both wept in an- 
guish. The daughter tore her hair, beat her breast, 
and rent her own flesh ; and, rushing together from 
the door half mad at their intolerable loss, they de- 
termined to wreak upon the innocent lady, their 
malice and revenge. They soon overtook her, and 
brayed aloud, like some savage beasts ; they howled, 
lamented, and, in the most shameless manner, called 
her unchaste, dishonest ; prayed that plagues and 
mischiefs might light upon her, and that she might 
stray forever, entangled in endless error. Thus they 
raved, till weaiy with their own violence, they turned 
round to seek again the bloody spot where Kirkra- 
pine lay ; Abessa still wailing piteously. 

No sooner had they turned about, than Abessa ob- 
served a knight approaching, clad in rich and mighty 
armour : — but alas ! it was no true knight, it was the 
subtle Archimago, who long since had set forward to 
work woe and mischief on the* blameless Una. He 






48 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

inquired of the women, if they knew aught of such 
a lady. Abessa immediately began to renew her 
passion ; to cry, and curse, and rail, and rend her 
hair, saying, ' I know the base dishonest woman. 
She is the cause of all my woe.' Upon which she 
related the story of Kirkrapine's death, whose loss 
caused her such bitter anguish. 

The knight pretended to pity her sad mischance ; 
but soon renewed his enquiries about the lady, and 
when informed of the path she had taken, rode on- 
ward at the full speed of his noble charger. He soon 
discovered Una, travelling slowly with the enormous 
lion by her side. Archimago feared the beast, and 
did not dare approach Una, but rode up a hill near 
the way side where she could see him. He was 
dressed like St. George ; his silver shield, his crest, 
his armour, were all exactly like those worn by that 
valiant knight. Una was deceived. She was sure it 
could be no other than the man she loved and hon- 
ored most. Without hesitation, but with a modest 
humble air, she immediately rode towards him, and 
weeping, thus spoke, ' Ah my long-lacked lord ! 
Where have you been ? No wild, no waste, has thy 
Una left unsearched. My days have been spent in 
toil, my nights in tears. Much I feared, that I had 
displeased you by some act, but what, my most se- 
vere scrutiny of memory could not reveal ; and why 
you should abhor one, who loved you with such holy 



OR HOLINESS. 49 

ardour, it pained me to conjecture. Oh ! how dark 
and cheerless have been the long, long nights since 
last we met. But you have returned ; light dawns 
upon my soul ; all now is shining bliss ! ' 

' My dearest dame,' replied the artful Archimago, 
1 it would have been a shame to knighthood, to have 
left in anger one so loved and so loving ; far be it from 
your thought and from mine. What ! leave you, bom 
of heavenly birth ; you in whom my life was wrapped 
up ; you, who chose me, freely, in faerie court, where 
the noblest knights on earth were assembled ? No, 
my knightly duties called me from your side, but only 
for a time. Archimago, a great magician, summon- 
ed me to destroy a felon, strong and malicious ; who 
had disgraced many a valiant knight. It was an ad- 
venture not to be refused, I obeyed him. Accept 
this my excuse, the cause was good; and receive 
again my faithful service, by which I vow to be your 
defence by sea and land.' 

The royal maiden, hearing such gentle words, felt 
recompensed for all her sufferings. One hour of 
love, can disperse the accumulated sorrows of many 
weary years. She forgot all she had endured for 
him. She spoke no more of the past. True love 
has no power to look back. Her true knight, he for 
whom she had travelled, toiled, wept, suffered, stood 
before her, and she asked no more. As feels the 
weather beaten mariner, who after having wandered 
5 



50 



LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 



over pathless oceans, exposed to rushing tides, to 
storms that cause old ocean to mingle his waves with 
the clouds of heaven ; to cold, to scorching heat ; at 
last sees the haven of his hopes, the desired port, the 
land of his fathers! So felt, and so rejoiced the gen- 
tle Una. The vile enchanter affected equal joy, and 
like some merchant, who views from afar a long ex- 
pected ship, laden with India's wealth, and pours 
vows to Neptune, blessing his power, and rejoicing 
in his might ; so gazed he on the lady : so did he 
bless the black enchantments that had helped him to 
see and to secure her. 19 

As they rode forward, Archimago inquired why 
the lion followed like an attendant page ? Una an- 
swered, by relating to him all the adventures of her 
journey. Suddenly a formidable horseman appeared 
in sight, strongly armed and on a noble courser, 
bathed in foam, and champing his iron bit, as if in 
very anger he could eat it. His rider spurred his 
sides in merciless haste ; his look was stern, and 
spoke of cruel revenge, and deadly hate ; and strange 
to relate, there was inscribed upon his broad bright 
shield, and in lines of blood, the name Sansloy ! 

When the fierce warrior drew near to the royal 
maiden and the false knight, he saw the Red Cross 
upon Archimago's shield. Undescribable fury ap- 
peared to seize him at that sight. With burning 
rage, he prepared for battle, couched his lance, and 



OR HOLINESS. 51 

advanced closely to the coward Archimago, who, 
faint with fear, shrunk in terror from the onset. But 
Una, believing that he was her own dear knight, 
cheered him with hope ; and urged him to defend 
her and assert his own unstained honor. He there- 
fore prepared for the attack, and determined to meet 
his foe bravely. But the proud pagan came forward 
so fiercely, so full of wrath, and struck so powerfully 
with his sharp headed spear, upon his shield, that 
had not the horse of Archimago shrunk from the 
blow, both he and his rider would have received 
their death wound. Even as it was, the force of the 
blow threw Archimago from his horse, tumbling him 
rudely to the earth on which flowed streams of blood 
from his gory wound. Sansloy then dismounted, 
determined to take the life of his fallen enemy, and 
said proudly, ' You have well deserved your fate. 
You murdered Sansfoy, and must now die to quiet 
his perturbed spirit. Your death will appease his 
repining strife, and his ghost will pass quietly over 
the Lethean lake. You took the life of Sansfoy ; — 
Sansloy takes yours.' 

So speaking, Sansloy seized his helmet, and began 
to unlace it ; but Una exclaimed, i O, hold your 
heavy hand ! who e'er you are, whatever place you 
fill ; let it be enough that your foe is vanquished. 
Withstand not the cry of mercy! for he, whom you 
have conquered, is the truest knight alive. Do not 



52 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

deprive of life one, who has fairly fought in many a 
bloody field, though now laid low by your powerful 
arm.' 

The fierce Sansloy did not heed her words ; and 
rudely rent up the helmet, intending to slay him in- 
stantly. But suddenly he stopped, astonished, and 
withdrew his hasty hand from the throat of his 
hoary headed victim ; his raising the helmet, so as 
to leave bare the throat, had revealed to view the gray 
hairs of Archimago. Sansloy knew the man, and 
knew that he never fought in the field, in single com 
bat, or in tournaments. He had never been told, 
however, that he was a necromancer. 

1 Why Archimago ! ' said the knight, ' What do I 
see ? What hard mishap is this ? What brought 
thee, luckless sire, to such a spot as this ? Are you 
in fault, or am I in an error, to wound a friend, when 
I intended to destroy a foe ? ' But Archimago an- 
swered not ; he had fainted ; the cloud of death 
seemed settling upon his glazed eye-balls ; and Sans- 
loy turned from him, to see what had become of the 
royal maiden. 

Una was standing amazed to see how she had been 
deceived ; and could not but think Archimago was 
but deservedly punished for assuming the guise of 
her long absent knight. From these thoughts she 
was suddenly aroused by fear ; the bold pagan ap- 
proached her, seized her snowy robe, and pulled her 



OR HOLINESS. 53 

rudely from her steed. She was closely veiled, but 
the barbarian was determined to behold her face, 
and without ceremony tore it from her head. The 
lion, who had never left Una unguarded, was enraged 
to see his sovereign lady so rudely handled, and open- 
ing his powerful jaws, seized the massy shield of the 
pagan, and nearly wrenched it from his grasp. But 
Sansloy was well skilled in arms ; brave, strong, and 
jaX this moment enraged by the vilest passions ; and 
while the lion held on upon the shield, he drew his 
sword, and plunged it into the heart of the noble ani- 
mal, who roared aloud with agony and expired. 

Dreadful indeed was the fate of Una ; her only 
guardian lay dead before her. She had become the 
prey of a merciless heathen ; hope was well nigh 
gone; and her vile capturer poured upon her the 
lowest abuse ; and then forcibly seating her upon his 
courser, sprang up behind her, and rode furiously 
onward, she knew not whither. Her prayers, her 
loud cries, and piteous lamentations availed nothing. 
Sansloy had a stony heart ; and that heart was now 
filled with bitter rancour. Her palfrey followed afar 
off, as if wishing to partake her dangers, and pitying 
her misfortunes, more tender in his beastlike kind- 
ness, than was the bold bad pagan, who bore her far 
away to scenes unknown, and to a fate of which she 

knew not either the good or evil. 

5 # 



CHAPTER IV. 



To sinful house of pride, Duessa 

Guides the faithful knight, 
Where, his brother's death to wreak, Sansloy 

Doth challenge him to fight. 



Whatever young knight professes arms, and 
hopes through long and toilsome labours, to secure 
honor and fame, let him beware of fraud, and of 
fickleness. If from among the good and beautiful 
he selects a bride, if once he plights his vows of love 
and constancy, let him be firm ; let him not change 
the loved one, nor listen to the voice of slander; 
lightly believing her to blame, and rashly throwing 
from his heart her, whose truth, malice alone dares 
to doubt. There is no greater shame to knighthood, 
than lightness and inconstancy in love; and they 
always bring in their train disgrace and misery, as is 
well proved, in the history of the Red Cross Knight. 

When Archimago impeached the loyalty of Una, 
did St. George stop to inquire or reason ? Did he 
bid her plead her own cause, or even stop to ascer- 
tain the certainty of what he witnessed ? No ; he 
listened, and at one hasty glance, believed ; he never 



56 



LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 



called on Una to explain ; but allowed the vile magi- 
cian to accuse the lady of his love of infidelity to her 
vows, and raging in jealous fury, left her whom he 
had sworn to protect, alone among strangers, in a 
desert place, exposed to lawless passion, to dungeons 
and to death. And what was the consequence ? Of 
her sad condition something has been told ; we will 
now see how the cruel knight himself is punished 
for his rash credulity, 

We have already related his meeting with Duessa, 
under the feigned name of Fidessa, which he really 
believed to be her proper and true name. With her 
he travelled for a long time, without meeting with 
any person or place worth mentioning in our story. 
At last they arrived within sight of a goodly build- 
ing. It was bravely garnished and looked like the 
palace of some mighty prince. A broad high way 
led to the entrance, which was worn smooth by the 
multitudes that travelled thither. Day and night the 
road was filled with people of all degrees, flocking to 
the splendid building, and of others returning from 
it. Those who were going, looked gay ; many were 
clothed gorgeously, all seemed full of hope and joy. 
Those that were returning, looked sad, disgraced, 
beggered. Many loathsome and diseased lay along 
the hedges ; and all wore the garments of extreme 
poverty. To this fatal palace, Duessa insisted that 
the knight should go. She said she was weary witJi 



OR HOLINESS. 57 

her toilsome ride, and that the day was almost spent. 
As the knight had forgotten his pure and lovely Una, 
and bestowed his love upon the wicked Duessa, he 
was obliged to gratify her wayward wishes, and go 
wherever it suited her will to direct him. 

This stately palace, to which they now rode with 
a rapid pace, was built in a most imposing style. 
The bricks were square, but put together without 
mortar ; the walls were very high, but neither strong 
nor thick, and were overlaid with gold foil, which 
was so brilliant that it made the sky above look pale. 
Many lofty towers and splendid galleries, glittering 
with the precious metal, rose high and spread wide. 
Windows of unusual size, and delightful bowers, 
ornamented these towers and galleries : and on the 
very top of the palace roof was erected a dial. Its 
whole appearance evinced great skill in the builders ; 
but unfortunately they had neglected the foundation. 
Intent only upon making it a striking and attractive 
object to travellers, they placed no stones to support 
the immense superstructure ; but built it on a sand 
hill, so high, that the winds of heaven shook it as they 
passed by, and the rains were daily washing the sand 
from beneath it ; and when the back side of the palace 
was critically examined, it was found old and ruin- 
ous ; but most cunningly painted to deceive the care- 
less passer by. 

When the knight and Duessa reached the palace, 



58 



LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 



they perceived that all the doors stood wide open, and 
though there was a porter, named Malvenu, appoint- 
ed, he denied entrance to no one of any rank or age. 
They passed on to the hall of audience ; astonished 
beyond expression, at the rich array, the costly arras, 
and the immense number and variety of people. 
These people were all waiting to gain access to the 
princess, who held sovereign sway in this splendid 
abode. The knight and Duessa were gazed at, in 
mute surprise, as they walked forward, and mounted, 
unbidden, to the royal presence. Far more surprized 
was he, when he beheld the princess. The glorious 
view confounded his frail and amazed senses. Such 
endless wealth, so sumptuous a show, no earthly 
palace ever exhibited. Not even Persia, considered 
the parent and nurse of pompous pride, ever saw its 
equal. Lords and ladies splendidly arrayed were in 
attendance, and added vastly to the beauty and bril- 
liancy of the scene. At the far end of this gorgeous 
apartment, was spread a cloth of state. A rich throne, 
glittering like the sun in its glory, rose like a thing of 
heaven, before the dazzled spectator ; upon which, in 
royal robes covered with gold and precious stones, 
was seated a maiden queen. Her beauty was so 
radiant that it eclipsed the glories of her throne, 
which, one might imagine, envied the superior lustre 
of this excelling occupant of the richest and proudest 
throne on earth. Language fails when we would 



OR HOLINESS. 59 

describe her ; and we feel when attempting it, like 
Phaeton, the fairest child of Phoebus, who presumed 
to drive through the highest heavens, the flaming 
steeds of his father's chariot. Proud of such glory, 
vain of such high trust, and dazzled with the flashing 
beams from his resplendent parent, he left the beaten 
path of the inimitable vault, till his burning wheels 
wrapt the whole sky in flames, flames not made to 
burn but to enlighten. Such ill success would be 
surely ours, attempting to describe her that so proud- 
ly shone, fixing her eye on heaven and disdaining 
earth. At the feet of this resplendent being lay a 
hideous and dreadful dragon. She held in her hand 
a mirror, in which she often viewed her own won- 
drous face, and appeared delighted with the fair 
self-loved resemblance. 

This princess was the daughter of Pluto and 
Proserpine ; but such was her pride that she would 
not own her parentage, but claimed the thundering 
Jove for her father, who dwells in heaven, and wields 
the sceptre of universal dominion ; nor was she 
satisfied with even him, but said that, if among men 
or gods there was a higher, that being was her father. 
This princess bore among mortals the name of Luci- 
fera. She had assumed a crown and kingdom, but 
had no rightful claim to either, by birth or merit. 
She was a tyrannical and bold usurper of the scep- 
tre, 2 * which she held ; and governed, not by law, but 



60 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

by policy ; being led and advised to all her measures 
by six old wizards, whose bad counsels regulated her 
actions, and upheld her kingdom. 

When the knight and the seemingly fair Duessa 
appeared in view, a gentle usher, named Vanity, 
made room for them to pass on to the throne. 
Arrived at the lowest step, they knelt, and made low 
obeisance, and in the most humble manner commu- 
nicated to her majesty the cause of their coming. ' It 
is, ' said they, ' to see your royal state, and to witness 
the truth of far-spreading report, which speaks so 
loudly of your matchless power and beauty. ' 22 

With an eye of lofty disdain, as if half unwilling 
to look so low, she thanked them ; but vouchsafed 
no other notice worthy of a princess — nay, she 
hardly condescended to bid them rise. Her lords 
and ladies, on the other hand, were busy in exhibiting 
themselves to the greatest advantage to the strangers. 
Some curled their hair in courtly fashion ; some 
smoothed their ruffs ; others examined every part of 
their attire, to see if they excelled their neighbors in 
brilliancy of ornament, and richness of the materials 
with which their robes, and other garments, were 
made ; each fearing, and each envying the other. 
In one object, however, they all united, which was to 
entertain the newly arrived guests ; for they were 
always glad to increase their number. To Duessa 
in particular, they paid devoted attention ; for they 



OR HOLINESS. 61 

knew her well. But St. George was displeased. He 
considered all the vain show as unworthy of a 
knight's notice, and that the proud princess did not 
extend to him the courtesies due to a stranger. 

Suddenly uprising from her splendid throne, the 
royal dame commanded that her coach should be 
brought forth immediately ; towards which she moved 
with princely pace, and an air of haughty superiority. 
As fair Aurora, who, clothed in imperial purple, calls 
dawning day from the illumined east ; so moved 
the royal maiden in her gorgeous robes. Her bright- 
ness flashed intolerable day around her, and the 
people thronged in heaps, riding on each other, 
their eyes dazzled with the splendor, to gaze upon 
her as she moved. Thus she came forth, and ascen- 
ded her chariot, glittering with gold and garlands, that 
seemed fresh from the hands of Flora. The proud 
dame strove to match, in the richness of her royal 
array, and in her equipage, the imperial Juno, and 
her golden car ; which, it is said, the gods stand gazing 
at as she rides over the brass-paved way, that leads 
through heaven, to the throne of Jove. But Juno's 
car is like one resplendent jewel, drawn by gorgeous 
peacocks, with the hundred eyes of Argus beaming 
from their expanded tails. Not so the chariot of 
Lucifera, proud as she was. She was drawn by 
six unequal beasts; on each of which misshapen 
animals rode one of her six sage counsellors. 
6 



62 



LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 



These animals were made obedient to the bestial 
behests of their riders by whip and spur ; and he 
who was placed as leader, in the splendid vehicle, 
was named Idleness. He was extremely sluggish, 
and rode upon an ill-looking, slothful ass ; he was 
very thin, and clad in black vestments, like some holy 
monk, about to begin the service of his church. He 
had a prayer book in his hand, which, though seldom 
read, was very much worn. But Idleness cared little 
about devotion ; most of his days passed in drowsi- 
ness and sleep. It was hardly in his power to raise 
his heavy head sufficiently, to know whether it was 
night or day. Poorly indeed must this princess have 
been guided, since he, who pretended to be her guide, 
was not awake enough, had not energy enough, to 
see or care if he went right or wrong. He was such 
a mere animal, that he had no one care. He shunned 
all manly exercise ; he excused himself from every 
labor, by pretending that he was fond of contempla- 
tion. Yet in reality, he led a life of lawless riot, 
which brought upon him grievous maladies. A 
shaking fever reigned continually in all his limbs, 
which were wasted to a skeleton, and his whole 
appearance was revolting to those who looked upon 
him. 

Next to him there came a filthy swine ; and Glut- 
tony a most loathsome and deformed creature, rode 
upon its back. Eating to excess, had swollen him 



OR HOLINESS. 



63 



to an immense size ; liis eyes, his face, his limbs were 
all so disgustingly shapeless and clumsy, that every 
body turned loathingly away as he approached ; and 
then his neck was frightfully disproportioned ; it was 
long and thin, and forever crammed with food, far 
more than he could possibly digest ; and like a brute 
beast he threw from his gorged stomach, as he rode, 
the undigested viands he had swallowed. He was 
most fantastically dressed ; for he would wear nothing 
but vine leaves. He was so surfeited by his load of 
flesh, that the perspiration trickled in streams from 
his ivy-crowned head ; and yet he kept on eating, 
and bore in his hand a large can of liquor, of which 
he drank so often, that he was almost too drunk to 
keep his seat, and guide the filthy animal upon which 
he rode. He was indeed unfit for any worldly thing, 
so gross had he become. He scarcely knew his friends 
from his foes, so clogged were his senses with meat 
and drink ; and his multiplied diseases increased so 
rapidly upon him, that he was like to lose all resem- 
blance to man. He was becoming monstrous, in 
shape, and size, and stupidity. Such was the second 
counsellor of this vain and proud-minded queen, and 
such were the animals that helped draw her splendid 
chariot. 

Nor were the rest less odious in shape or character. 
Next to the ass and the swine, was harnessed a beard- 
ed goat. Its hair was stiff and coarse ; its walled 



64 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

eyes expressed the jealousy that eat like a canker into 
its heart, and accorded well with the loathsome be- 
ing that rode upon its back. Gross, Unlawful Love, 
rough and black as the goat itself, was the third of 
these wise guides of the misguided princess. To 
men he was most unseemly, though often caressed by 
base, degraded women. He wore a garment of splen- 
did green, which flowing gracefully about his person, 
concealed the filth iness beneath. In his hand he 
carried a burning heart, in which could be seen new- 
fangled notions about right and wrong, vain follies, 
and guile and necromancy; with love for impure 
books, those sly but sure destroyers of innocence and 
simplicity. This monster, in short, was a portrait of 
inconstant man ; one who loves all he sees among 
fair and gentle women, whom to lead from the 
path of virtue, is his daily labor and malignant de- 
light. To destroy the bliss of wedded love ; to tempt 
husband and wife to violate the nuptial vow ; to bring 
reproach, and pain, and loathsome disease into the 
abodes of innocence and peace, is the occupation of 
his abhored life ; and, as is meet for such a mon- 
ster, he himself was utterly corrupted, mind and 
body, with horrid thoughts, and mortal disease: — 
bones, marrow, brain, were all consuming with the 
torture of slow and constant fire. 

The fourth animal in this strangely conducted 
vehicle, was a camel. It was a patient creature, and 






OR HOLINESS. 65 

by no means so revolting to the view as the three we 
have described ; and yet the being that rode upon it 
is hardly less to be abhored, than those who ride 
upon the ass, the swine, and the goat. It was Avarice. 
He had loaded the camel very heavily with gold, 
having put into baskets on either side iron coffers, 
rilled with the precious metal. In addition to this, 
he carried a great quantity in his lap, and counted 
it over and over as he was riding. Gold was all 
the god he worshipped, and he had sold himself 
to hell for money ; for there was no crime he would 
not commit to increase his wealth. He was an 
usurer, taking unlawful interest, and availing himself 
of the biting distress of his fellow beings, to exact 
unreasonable hire for the money he lent them. — 
Right and wrong were alike indifferent to him : and 
he would have ridden, unflinchingly, to the very 
gate of hell, to gain advantage of indigent and un- 
suspecting men. He had accumulated vast treasures 
by meanness, cheating, theft, and all kind of base- 
ness ; yet he was miserable. He spent his days in 
numbering his heaps of gold, and could not sleep 
at night lest he should be robbed. He went ragged 
and nearly barefoot ; took so little food that he was 
wasted to a skeleton ; and he had no child, no 
kinsman to inherit his millions ; no one to love him ; 
no one to respect him. Not one grateful heart 
breathed a prayer for his happiness ; and as no 
6* 



66 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

accumulation ever satisfied his cravings for gold, he 
was wretched, and poor, amidst wealth sufficient to 
have diffused peace and plenty, joy and gratitude, 
throughout the country of which he had rendered 
himself the scourge and the destroyer. In addition 
to his self-imposed starvation from cold and hunger, 
a dreadful gout tormented his hands and feet ; and 
it was agony to him to touch anything, or to walk, 
or to stand still. Thus horrible is every form of 
vice, and one could hardly choose to which he 
would be subject. 

The next in this motley group of animals, was a 
ravenous wolf, upon which Envy rode, detestable 
alike to men and women. The monster, Envy, held 
between his teeth a venomous toad, which he chewed 
continually, so that the poison ran trickling from his 
mouth upon his beard. Inwardly he fed upon his 
own vitals, so much was he tormented at the view of 
a neighbor's wealth, or fame or happiness. He 
nearly expired when any rare felicity was bestowed 
upon others, and he often wept, because he had no 
object near, over whose misery he could triumph ; 
and of course, the misfortunes of others made him 
rejoice exceedingly. He was dressed in a robe of 
thin silk, painted full of eyes ; and he carried in his 
bosom a hateful snake, whose tail was coiled up into 
many folds, ready prepared to inflict a mortal sting. 
Envy gnashed his teeth while riding, whenever he 



OR HOLINESS. 67 

saw others in possession of gold ; and he pined in- 
wardly at the felicity of the proud princess, whom he 
was assisting to draw in her shining equipage, as well 
as at the several sources of joy, which the other 
counsellors fancied they possessed. But nothing 
provoked Envy so much as the good deeds of others. 
He abhored those who clothed the naked or fed the 
hungry, and accused them of want of faith, of doing 
good to be seen of men. If a book were well 
written, or a poem elicited praise from an admiring 
community, he would backbite and spit poison at the 
writer and the poet. In short to contemplate virtue, 
to see active goodness, to witness talent receiving its 
meed of praise, was torment to this fiend in human 
shape. 

The next in this strange retinue was Wrath. He 
rode upon a lion, which was unwilling to be thus led, 
and extremely hard to manage. Wrath, however, 
subdued him, by brandishing a burning brand about 
his head. The eyes of Wrath sent forth sparks of 
fire, of vivid redness, and he gazed sternly on all 
whom he met ; but his face was pale and haggard, 
like one dead. He trembled with rage, clutched his 
dagger with a nervous grasp, and swelled with choler, 
like some savage monster of the desert. His garments 
were stained with blood, and rent almost to rags, by 
the violence of his own actions, over which he had 
no government. He shed blood in his vengeance, as 



68 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

he would pour water on the thirsty earth ; but yet he 
often repented of his cruelty, though his repentance 
was of no worth in the sight of God or man, for it 
produced no reformation ; and he drove headlong 
anew to deeds of revenge and death. The mischiefs 
following in his train were numerous ; bloodshed, 
strife, murder, pillage, rancour, despite, fretting 
grief — the slow, sure enemy of life, spleen, frenzy, 
palsy, and that deadly imp that lit the fires about the 
good St. Francis ; all, and more hover about this 
terrific being : O, what a guide was he, for a young 
and lovely woman, and she, a royal princess ! 

But, in addition to all these unfitting guardians 
that we have described, Satan had perched himself 
upon the beam of the chariot, and carried a whip in 
his hand, with which he lashed forward the lazy 
team, especially when Idleness got stuck in the mire. 
A huge assembly of people followed the equipage, 
shouting for joy ; but soon, a foggy mist came over 
the whole land, and they perceived that sculls and 
bones of men lay all along beneath their feet. 
However, they pushed forward, determined to take 
solace for all evils, in the open air, and fresh fields, 
covered at this time with flowers of every hue. Next 
to the seat of proud Lucifera, rode Duessa, false as 
she was seemingly beautiful. The Knight of the Red 
Cross kept at a good distance from the strange and 
motley crew ; he felt disgusted with their vain joy, 



ea holiness. 69 

and thought it was unfit for a warrior like himself 
to have fellowship with men so riotous, and even 
beastly. 23 

After roaming awhile over the fields, and breath- 
ing the fresh and fragrant air, the whole train returned 
to the princely palace. There they found that a 
stranger knight had arrived. His shield made known 
his name and rank, for Sansloy was written upon it 
in letters of blood. His countenance exhibited the 
deadly passions that were raging in his bosom, fury 
inflamed his features, and fire darted from his eye. 
Vengeance, bloody vengeance had taken possession of 
his soul. And when he beheld the shield of Sansfoy, 
borne by our knight's little page, he knew that his 
brother's destroyer was before him. Neglectful of 
the presence of the royal maiden, the furious Sansloy 
sprung upon the dwarf, and wrenched the shield 
from his grasp ; but St. George could not submit to 
such an insult. The shield was the meed won in 
dangerous fight; and as such, was his glory as the 
victor. Not an instant, therefore, did he stop to 
reason, but sprang like a tiger upon Sansloy ; their 
swords shook ; their shields clashed ; and the terrified 
attendants of the queen knew not where to go, or 
what to do. But presently, and in high displeasure, 
the queen commanded the knight to desist, and that 
if either of them claimed a right to the shield, they 



70 



LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 



should decide the contest on the morrow in regular 
combat in the lists. 

' Ah dearest dame,' said the bold pagan, < pardon 
my error. Rage and grief made me forget in whose 
presence I stood. This recreant knight — no, not 
knight, but traitor, by shameful guile overthrew the 
bravest knight that ever graced a battle field, even the 
stout Sansfoy, (O, how can I restrain my wrath !) 
and to add insult to treason, he wears the shield 
reversed, that he won so basely. Nor is this all. 
Look at that lady, the fair Fidessa. She was my 
brother's best beloved, and this vile traitor is reaping 
the harvest sown by the noble Sansfoy ! O queen, 
grant us but equal favor, and this hand shall revenge 
my brother's wrong. ' 

The Red Cross Knight said but a few words. He 
intended that the sword, not the tongue, should decide 
his right. He quietly threw down his gage, by which 
he was pledged to appear in the lists on the following 
day, and then turned silently from his enraged foe. 

The night was spent in feasting and revelry ; bower 
and hall were filled with ladies, knights, and esquires. 
Gluttony was steward, and provided them lavishly 
with every thing that could captivate the senses and 
feed the appetite ; and when joy and jollity were over, 
and aching heads and weary limbs sought quiet and 
rest, Sloth acted as chamberlain, and waited on all to 



OR HOLINESS. 71 

the places of repose. As midnight spread over the 
pure azure of heaven her coal-black mantle, our two 
angry knights were conducted to luxurious couches, 
and left to their repose ; but neither could sleep. 
Each mused on the means best adapted to work 
destruction to his adversary ; and Duessa, as soon as 
she was sure that Morpheus, with his leaden mace, 
had arrested all the numerous court of Lucifera, rose 
from her couch and crept silently to the lodgings of 
the pagan. She found him broad awake, revolving 
in his mind the events that might occur to-morrow ; 
and forecasting how he might best secure the victory. 
Addressing him with words of seeming tenderness : 
* Ah dear Sansloy, ' she began, ' next dearest to my 
murdered Sansfoy ; you are at once the cause of my 
grief and my delight. I rejoice to see the image of 
my lost lord in your eye ; and I grieve because the 
sight of you brings before me the dreadful scene of 
his destruction. ' 

The knight answered her gently, and with fair 
words; and begged her to tell him freely all the 
secrets of her heart. Sighing she began : ' It is often 
and wisely said that a little sweet is tempered with 
much smart. Since I loved Sansfoy, I have never 
enjoyed one hour. Woe clings eternally to my heart. 
With all my powders I loved him, and at the moment 
when I hoped that all perils were overcome, and that 
I was about to receive the full reward of my unceasing 



72 



LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 



woe, this traitor comes, by base arts conquers my 
noble lover, wears the shield too worthy to be touched 
by such a base wretch, and then carries me, poor, 
simple maid, because I loathed his proffered love, 
and imprisons me in a dark, deep cave. Your coming, 
like the sun in its glory, disperses the lowering cloud 
that had settled on my life. I will shroud me under 
your beams ; they will light me to shun the storm 
which this hateful sprite is calling down upon my 
helpless head. Your brother's inheritance belongs to 
you of right ; his lady-love belongs to you. O do not 
suffer his restless ghost to wander unrevenged; it 
calls to you from the Stygian shores ! and preserve 
me, dear Sansloy, from that Red Cross Knight.' 

4 Fair dame,' replied the pagan, i grieve not for 
sorrows past. They are gone. Neither fear about 
present perils ; for needless fear destroys our power 
of guarding against danger ; and for things inevitable, 
and that no human foresight can control, it is useless 
to mourn. The ghost of Sansfoy, you say, grieves 
for vengeance. He lives that will sacrifice the guilty 
blood of a traitor to appease its groans.' 

' O,' she replied, i I fear the fickle freaks of fortune, 
and the odds of arms, when you shall meet to-morrow.' 
Why dame,' he answered, ' what odds can there 
be ? are we not going to honorable combat ? are we 
not both determined to fight till one shall yield or 
die?' 



OR HOLINESS. 73 

1 Ah,' said the false traitress, ' he bears a charmed 
shield, and enchanted arms, that no mortal man can 
pierce. No arm, however brave, can wound a knight 
armed in this manner.' 

'Tell me not of charms, and enchantments,' 
answered he fiercely, ' I care not for them. Rehearse 
no more of them to me. But, fair Fidessa, since you 
are a captive, and in the power of an enemy, pru- 
dently return whence you came, and rest awhile. 
To-morrow, I will subdue the elf that lords it over 
your fortunes; and all of the murdered Sansfoy's 
shall be yours.' 

' That is a double death,' she replied ; 6 proud foes 
you are, and all my sorrows will be renewed, when 
I behold your combat ; but, wherever I am, my secret 
aid will belong to you.' So saying, she returned 
again to her couch as the pagan had commanded. 
7 



CHAPTER V. 



The faithful knight in equal field 
Subdues his faithless foe ; 

Whom false Duessa saves, and for 
His cure, to hell does go. 



The heart which is filled with noble and virtuous 
thoughts, and glorious intentions can never rest till 
circumstances give birth to manly effort, benevolent 
labour, moral and intellectual excellence and all the 
abundant offspring of that virtue which is born of 
God. The knight of the Red Cross had gone forth 
to destroy Error and all her destructive brood, and to 
protect holiness. A pagan was now to enter the lists 
against him. He knew that the happiness of his fel- 
low men, the honor of the glorious queen who had 
sent him forth, and his own fame were involved in 
the issue of the combat. How could he sleep? 
Restless, full of anxious thought in what way he 
might best achieve the honors of the tournament, he 
lay wakeful and impatient for the dawn of day. 
Full of courage, and strong in hope, he at last saw 
the golden oriental gate of highest heaven slowly 
unfold ; and Phoebus, fresh as a bridegroom came 



76 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

dancing forth, shaking the dew from his hair, and 
hurling through the dark atmosphere his glistening 
beams. 

The knight sprung joyous from his couch, and pre- 
pared himself for battle. He put on his sun bright 
armour, and walked forth into the common hall. It 
was crowded already with the lords and ladies of the 
court, all anxious to know what might befall the 
stranger knights. Minstrels were tuning their harps ; 
for nothing so powerfully arouses that cruel courage 
which urges man against his fellow man, as music. 
Its power over the heart is irresistible, and never 
should be used but in the cause of virtue. These 
minstrels cunningly tuned their voices to old heroic 
ballads, that chronicled the loves, and wars for ladies, 
of many chivalrous knights. The melody swept 
enchantingly over the assembled crowd, and the 
knight's heart beat high with hopes of conquest and 
fame. 

At that moment the Saracen entered. He was 
armed in mail, woven so warily, that it seemed a cer- 
tain security from death. His eye was stern, his step 
lofty, proud defiance sat upon his bold brow, as if he 
feared neither God nor man. The attendants imme- 
diately brought wines, made in Greece and Araby, 
richly spiced, and intended to kindle into flame the 
courage of the combatants. It was also used in the 
religious ceremony which preceded the battle. The 



OR HOLINESS. 77 

warriors drank it, taking a solemn oath, to observe 
the sacred laws of arms. 

The queen now approached in royal robes, and 
was placed under a splendid canopy where she could 
view the contest. Opposite to this renowned lady, 
was Duessa, and the shield of Sansfoy. Both were 
to be the prize of the conqueror. 

The trumpet now sounds shrill, giving command 
to address themselves to battle. The knights tie 
their shining shields upon their wrists ; their burning 
blades blaze, as each whirls the instrument of wrath 
about his crested head; they advance, they strike, 
they impress deep dinted furrows on their battered 
mails, whose iron walls are weak to resist such pow- 
erful blows ; the stout Saracen fights for blood and 
vengeance, and heaps blows on blows, as with an iron 
hammer, upon the astonished champion of the faerie 
queene. St. George full of youth, fighting for fame 
and honor, and in the cause of virtue, doubles his 
blows like threatening thunder. Both strike, are 
struck. Both beat and both are beaten. Their hel- 
mets are deeply cut ; fire flies brightly and thick from 
their hard struck shields ! One strives for Wrong, 
the other battles for the Right. As when a griffin pos- 
sessed of his lawful prey, is met in mid-heaven by a 
fierce dragon, that attempts to rob him of his hard 
earned meal ; they meet with equal force, smite to- 
gether, tear, rend, scream with hideous horror, till 
7 # 



78 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

the heavens recede in fear, and the wise soothsayer 
tells the amazed multitude of vulgar gazers, that wars 
and mortal fight are about to desolate the earth. So 
met the knights ; so each strove to bring deadly shame 
upon the other ; so drove they the biting steel through 
the iron wall that enclosed them, till streams of blood 
flowed copiously, and their late brilliant armour was 
died in pure vermillion. 

The spectators sat in mute horror, not daring to 
wish victory to either ; and expecting that every new 
stroke of their vengeful weapons, would force a proud 
soul through the gaping wound. At last, the pagan 
knight chanced to look upon the shield of his dead 
brother, that was purposely suspended from a tree, 
within sight of the battle ground. His rage was 
redoubled at this sight, and he cried out, ' Ah, wretch- 
ed son of a most wretched father ! Are you left to 
linger wailing about the Stygian lake, whilst thy 
shield is hung up to be contended for ; and does thy 
sluggish brother lack force to send to darkest Erebus, 
thy foe? Go,' he continued, speaking to the Red 
Cross Knight, 'go caitif elf! overtake his ghost 
quickly, and redeem him from his long wandering 
woe. Go, guilty ghost ! cany to the perturbed spirit 
this message ; tell him I have recovered his shield 
from his dying foe.' Saying this, he struck such a 
blow upon the crest of the young knight, that he 
reeled twice, twice nearly fell from his gallant steed. 



OR HOLINESS. 79 

and all present believed the end of the long doubtful 
battle had approached. 

Then Duessa called aloud to the pagan, i Thine is 
the shield, and I, and all ! ' His lady's voice roused 
the swooning St. George. His faith, which had near- 
ly failed, was quickened ; the creeping cold in his 
blood passed away, and he arose in wrath. Shame 
mantled on his cheek, that ladies fair should witness 
his defeat ; and, determining to be avenged at once 
upon his proud antagonist, he raised high his arm of 
almost matchless power, striking with such force 
upon the pagan's crest, that he brought him to the 
ground ; and, if he had not saved himself by stoop- 
ing very low, he would have cloven him in twain. 
He then spoke to him as follows : ' Go proud mis- 
creant ; go to thy dear brother ! He has wandered 
alone too long. Go, tell him that his foe wears his 
shield, and will soon wear thine.' Here he raised 
high his arm, and would have slain his enemy on the 
spot, had not some demon from the regions of dark- 
ness enveloped him in a dense cloud. The pagan 
was not to be seen ; he had vanished, or was hid, by 
impenetrable night. 

And now Duessa arose, and hastened to the aston- 
ished champion : 6 O knight of noble prowess,' she 
hypocritically exclaimed, * did ever lady choose a 
lover so excelling ? Subdue, I intreat thee, the ter- 
ror of your might, and quench the furious flame that 






80 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 



is consuming you. Lay by your bloody vengeance. 
The infernal powers have wrapt in clouds your 
expiring foe, and borne him to the bowers of Pluto. 
The conquest is yours ; I am yours ; the shield and 
the glory are yours.' 

This did not however, satisfy the wonder-stricken 
knight. He searched round with a greedy eye for 
his faithless enemy, who lay safely concealed in an 
adjoining thicket ; and stood amazed at the incom- 
prehensible manner in which he was removed. But 
the trumpet of triumph wakes all the distant echoes. 
Heralds run and prostrate themselves in homage to 
the conqueror ; greeting him aloud with shouts of 
victory, and bringing to him the dearly won shield of 
Sansfoy. Upon receiving it, he walked to the foot 
of the throne, and knelt before the sovereign queen. 
He plighted to her vows of allegiance, and offered 
her his knightly services. 24 She gracefully thanked 
him, and accepted his vows and his proffered ser- 
vice. The queen praised his gay chivalry, placed 
him by her side, and moved towards the royal resi- 
dence. The people followed them in great glee, 
shouting and clapping all their hands, so that the 
sounds filled the air and rose to the very heavens. 
The knight was laid in a sumptuous bed, and the 
most skillful surgeons were procured to examine his 
still bleeding wounds. They bathed him with wine 
and oil, and commanded that the minstrels should 






OR HOLINESS. 81 

exert their magic power, and pour melody around 
his bed, to beguile his pain, and calm his agony. 
Duessa, the artful wicked Duessa, all the time pre- 
tended to weep violently in pity for his sufferings. 
The poor deluded knight, was like a weary traveller, 
reposing on the bank of the broad seven mouthed 
Nile, deceived by the tears of a cruel, crafty croco- 
dile, that had crept unawares towards him, weeping 
so naturally, and expressing such deep and tender 
sorrow, that he allowed the monster to swallow him, 
before he was aware of danger. So wept Duessa, 
till eventide, and the shining lamps of night began 
to be lighted in the high hall of Jove. 

Then she left the knight of the Red Cross, to 
examine into the situation of the heathen knight, 
who had lain so long in a deep swoon, that vital 
energy was almost extinct. All the day he had been 
covered with the enchanted cloud ; but his wounds 
were not dressed, nor had any refreshments been 
procured for him. Duessa saw that his condition 
was fearfully dangerous, and without stopping to 
lament about what she could not remedy, she flew 
rapidly to the eastern coast of heaven. There resides 
Night, with a visage so sad, that the cheerful Phoebus 
never dared look upon her. She usually wears a 
mantle of pitchy black, and was just coming forth 
from her dark retreat, as Duessa arrived. Her iron 
chariot was harnessed at the door. The steeds were 






82 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

coal black, and were born of a hellish breed. When 
Night observed Duessa, bright as the sun, and adorn- 
ed with gold and jewels, she was greatly amazed, 
and would have retreated back to her cave ; for such 
brightness never before shone upon her dominions, 
but Duessa intreated her to stop, in these words. ' O 
thou dreaded dame, I intreat thee to stop, till I have 
told my message ; thou ancient grandmother, older 
than Jove or any of the celestials in earth or heaven ; 
thou, who wast born in the hall of Demigorgon, and 
beheld the secrets of the uncreated world, why dost 
thou suffer thy nephews to be murdered ? Why 
allow an elfin sword to send two of thy noble stock 
to the dark shore of Styx ? Behold, O Night, the 
great Sansjoy, is in a deadly sleep. The bold Sans- 
foy, whom this recreant knight most basely slew, 
leaving his body to the fowls of heaven, was my 
loved lord. O ! what boots it to be born of gods, if 
such as he must die unwailed, and have his knightly 
limbs torn by the savage beasts? Thy children, 
great Night will be scorned. Up, dreary dame, up, 
queen of darkness, go, and gather up the relics of thy 
race, or else avenge them. Let the world see that 
dreaded Night can deface the fair children of light, 
and claim a place even with brightest Day.' 

The great mother of gods was moved by Duessa's 
artful speech ; yet never before was her heart touch- 
ed by pity ; and she always hated, and herself never 



OR HOLINESS. 83 

loved friend or foe. Something like compassion, 
however, now drew from her these words : 6 Dear 
daughter, I grieve at the- fall of famous children, and 
at the success of their foes ; but who can turn the 
stream of destiny ? Neither can we break the strong 
chain of necessity, which is fastened to the eternal 
throne of Jove. I know that the proud sovereign of 
the sky favors the sons of Day, and that he thinks to 
ruin me by making them great. It is base to raise 
one being upon the destruction of another. But all 
shall not escape. The man that made Sansfoy fall, 
shall pay the price with his own blood. But what 
art thou, that tellest of nephews killed ? ' 

' /, that do not seem /, am Duessa,' she answered, 
1 and though I come to thee arrayed in garments of 
gorgeous gold, I am the daughter of Deceit and 
Shame.' 

Night bowed down her aged back to kiss her wick- 
ed daughter, and said, c I thought I could see in your 
face, a strong resemblance to Deceit ; yet your seem- 
ing grace was so well assumed, that I could scarcely 
discern its falseness in this dark place. I am the 
root of the Duessa race ; the mother of Falsehood — 
welcome my child. I have longed to see you, and 
will go with you.' So speaking she ascended her 
chariot, and placed the foul well-favoured witch by 
her side. She glided swiftly through the mirky air ; 
her horses, two of which were black and two brown, 



84 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

swam softly and easily along, unless Night chanced 
to twitch her bridle, then they would rear and foam, 
and plunge, champ their hard bits, and trampling the 
fine element, race fiercely along the cope of heaven. 
A few moments brought them to the pagan knight, 
who lay apparently dead. The cloud still covered 
him. The blood had congealed about his wounds. 
These, the two strange beings bind up, as wisely as 
the place permitted ; and then they raise him gently 
to the chariot, closely concealed by rnirky Night. 
While Night and the witch were thus employed, the 
dogs brayed incessantly ; for the iron chariot had 
made so strange a sound, and Night looked so grisly 
and dark, that the creatures were utterly dismayed. 
The owl too, that messenger of Death, shrieked most 
drearily as the hags were at their wicked work ; and 
the hungry wolves howled at Night's abhored face. 
The chariot meanwhile, turned back in silence, bear- 
ing the heavy corse, which they carried with stealthy 
steps, to the yawning gulph of Avernus. Through 
that gulph, forever smoking with fumes of brim- 
stone, is an entrance to hell ; and those who pass it 
can never return, but by power given from heaven. 
Sometimes, dreadful furies break their chains, and 
condemned spirits come thence, to make bad men 
repent their evil deeds. Down the terrible descent 
the direful dames drove the iron chariot, filled with 
coagulated blood ; on every side of them stood tremb- 



OR HOLINESS, 85 

ling ghosts, chattering their iron coloured teeth. 
Their stony eyes glared horribly upon them, and all 
the hellish brood of imps and devils flocked around 
the chariot to gaze upon a sight so new and strange, 
a woman daring to ride down the dark steep of 
Avernus in company with Night ! 

They passed safely the bitter waters of Acheron, 
where they beheld many souls wailing most piteous- 
ly, but horrid indeed was the spectacle when they 
arrived at the fiery flood of Phlegethon, where ghosts 
lie in torment, cursing high Jove. Near to this 
dreadful river is erected the house of endless pain, 
and before the door lay the three headed monster 
Cerberus ; a thousand venomous adders curled about 
him, and his flaming tongue extended frightfully from 
his jaws. When he saw the chariot approach, he 
snarled and reared up his strong bristles; but Night 
soon appeased him, for she has equal power in hell 
and heaven, so he hung down his tail and suffered 
them to pass quietly. As they rode along towards 
the halls of Pluto, they saw Ixion who was con- 
demned to turn forever on a wheel, for having dared 
to tempt the queen of heaven ; there too they saw 
Sisyphus condemned eternally to roll a stone up hill, 
which as eternally rolled back upon the weary wretch ; 
there they saw Tantalus, up to the chin in water, yet 
agonized with thirst; and Tityus with a vulture feed- 
ing on his heart ; and Typhoeus extended on a rack ; 
8 



86 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

and Theseus, condemned to everlasting idleness; 
and the fifty sisters who were sentenced to be for- 
ever filling leaky vessels with water. All these were 
so astonished, to see a living being from the earth, 
in that place, that they suspended their labour, and 
forgot their pains, to gaze upon Duessa. 

The chariot passed slowly onward, till it came to a 
cave wrought with wonderful art ; it was deep, dark, 
uneasy, doleful, and comfortless. Here Esculapius 
was imprisoned, chained to irremediable woe, for 
curing the dismembered body of Hippolytus. Hip- 
polytus was a huntsman, exceedingly fond of chasing 
the foaming boar in his chariot. He was surpassing- 
ly beautiful, but entirely averse to marriage, or the 
society of fair ladies. The field was his delight. 
Light hearted and gay, this jolly sportsman wished 
to enjoy life his own way, willing that others should 
swim down the stream of time in barks of their own 
chusing. But he had a step-mother, whose base and 
degrading love he refused with abhorence ; and she 
accused him in revenge, to his fierce father, of trea- 
son. This father was descended from a sea-god, and 
without waiting to hear from his injured son the rea- 
sons for his mother's enmity and accusation, he pray- 
ed to the god, to send upon his son some signal ven- 
geance ; and as Hippolytus was one day enjoying his 
favorite amusement, two monsters, from the surging 
gulfs of ocean, sprung suddenly upon him. They 



OR HOLINESS. 87 

were so horrible that his horses were frightened, and 
upsetting the chariot, they dashed forward, dragging 
the beautiful Hippolytus, who was entangled in the 
harness, over craggy cliffs, till he was quite dismem- 
bered, and had left a beauteous limb on every moun- 
tain side. When the chariot stopped, not a trace of 
the bright and virtuous youth was left. This terrible 
event struck his cruel step-mother with agonizing 
remorse ; she told her husband of the perfect inno- 
cence of his son, and ended her wicked life by cut- 
ting her own throat. The father of Hippolytus, like 
all who rashly listen to the voice of calumny, was so 
incensed against himself, that he tore the hair from 
his head, and would have torn, if he could have done 
so, the offending tongue from his mouth. But calm- 
ing, at last, his now useless agony, he went to seek 
the scattered members of his beloved Hippolytus. 
Diana assisted him, for the goddess was a friend to 
the young sportsman, and they soon collected them 
all, and bore them to the famous Esculapius ; who, 
by a wonderful exertion of his powers healed them, 
and joined every part together, and restored Hippo- 
lytus alive to his father. But when Jove beheld this 
astonishing work of science, aided by man's wit; 
when he saw the dead raised and restored to life, he 
feared that Esculapius would make men immortal. 
He therefore thrust him down alive into Erebus, 
wounding him sorely with his flashing thunderbolt. 



OO LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

Here he had remained ever since, using all his skill 
to keep himself alive, and to slake the burning heat of 
the heavenly fire. 

When ancient Night had arrived at the prison of 
Esculapius, she alighted from her chariot ; took the 
wounded knight in her arms, and carried him to the 
mighty physician. She gently removed the armour 
from his bruised and wounded limbs, beseeching 
Esculapius, if either herbs, or oils, or salves, or 
charms could raise from death's door a wounded 
knight, he would prolong the life of her nephew. 

'Dame,' replied Esculapius, 'you tempt me in 
vain. Am I not already sentenced to eternal pain for 
restoring one man to life ? And do you think I will 
risk having my torments increased by lengthening 
the life of another ? Night cannot defend me from 
the wrath of thundering Jove, who rules both night 
and day.' 

' Not so,' said Night, ' heaven's king has already 
excluded you from heaven ; what have you to fear ? 
You can hope for nothing, and are now in the power 
of everlasting Night. Go to, then, most renowned 
son of great Apollo. Use all thy famous power in 
medicine, that has already won for thee, great pain, 
but greater praise, neither of which can ever cease.' 
Esculapius yielded to the persuasions of the ancient 
dame, and undertook to cure the knight. She ac- 
cordingly left him in his care, and returned on her 



OR HOLINESS. 89 

way homeward, while Phoebus was resting his weary- 
steeds in the western waves. 

The false Duessa also returned to the palace of 
Pride. But the fairy knight had departed. His 
wounds were not healed ; but he had good cause to 
hasten his departure, for his dwarf, who was a wary 
and careful creature, and devoted to the interest of 
his master, had discovered, below the splendid palace 
of Pride, a huge and loathsome dungeon. The scene 
in that dungeon was appalling. It was crowded with 
prisoners of all ranks, all ages, and all countries. 
The causes of their captivity were many. But the 
greatest number had brought themselves to this 
dreadful condition, by mortgaging their lives to cov- 
etousness, and wasteful pride, and riot, and then 
having to submit to the tyrannic rule of the royal 
dame who had led them astray from virtue and holi- 
ness. She no sooner possessed herself of all their 
wealth, than inflamed by Wrath and the false sur- 
mises of Envy, she condemned them to the merci- 
less dungeon, where they lived in woe, and died in 
misery. The dwarf, saw imprisoned in this abode 
of horror, the far famed proud king of Babylon, who 
compelled all nations to adore him, and call on him 
as the only God, till he was sentenced by almighty 
justice to become as a beast of the forest ; Croesus 
also was there, whose heart was exalted by great 
riches. Antiochus also, had been sentenced to this 



90 



LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 



place of woe, because he raised his hand against the 
God of heaven, and profaned his holy altars. And 
there was Nimrod, the mighty hunter, who grew 
proud, and introduced fire and sword for the destruc- 
tion of his fellow beings ; and Ninus, who once sur- 
passed in princely pomp, every earthly monarch. 
Low under all these ancient victims to pride, and 
covetousness, and riot, lay Alexander, who threw 
foul scandal on his father's name, and claimed to be 
the son of Jupiter Ammon, till by a shameful death 
he became scorned of gods and men. 

All these were thrown together in one heap, like 
the carcases of beasts, in a butcher's stall ; and in 
another corner were strown the ruins of ancient 
Rome. There were Romulus, Tarquin, Lentulus, 
Scipio, Hannibal, Scylla, Marius, Caesar, Pompey, 
and Antonius. These had been condemned for 
kindred vices ; as pride, stubbornness, ambition, cru- 
elty, vain-glory, avarice, and debauchery. Some 
women were seen among these men of renown and 
of guilt ; proud women, who would not submit to 
lawful restraint or decent customs. Semiramis, bold 
and masculine, whose side was pierced by the sword 
of her son, here sat in woe unutterable. Stenoboea, 
who choked herself with a cord, because she could 
not have her will, was also receiving here the pun- 
ishment of proud rebellion. Here too was Cleopa- 
tra, who destroyed her own life, with a deadly asp ; 



OR HOLINESS. 91 

and thousands more, whose virtue had yielded to the 
voice of pride, or ambition, or self-love, or desire for 
worldly honors. Most of the wretched beings who 
were crowded into this dark and dreary prison, had 
been brought there by wicked pride, and riotous liv- 
ing. The greater part of them came from the courts 
of princes, or from ladies' bowers ; where they had 
lived in idle pomp, or wasted life in luxurious indul- 
gence. When the careful dwarf informed his mas- 
ter of what he had seen and heard, in this abode of 
terror, the knight departed forthwith ; he would not 
risk the danger of sleeping another night in that 
house of Pride and Falsehood ; but departed pri- 
vately, by a postern gate, for he knew that if he was 
seen, his death would be inevitable. 

Scarcely could he find footing on the road from 
this treacherous palace. The way was choked with 
the carcases of murdered men, all of whom had 
fallen by the arts of the proud princess ; and even 
after he had left the grounds belonging to the castle, 
he saw heaps of dead men piled against the walls 
which surrounded it, melancholy victims of pride 
and extravagance. 



CHAPTER VI. 



From lawless love by wondrous grace 

Fair Una is released ; 
Whom savage nations do adore 

And learn her wise behests. 



The knight of the Red Cross, like the amazed 
mariner, who (his goodly ship driven rapidly before 
the wind,) escapes the hidden rocks, on which, but 
for divine aid, he must inevitably have been wrecked, 
looks distracted between joy and fear, at having 
escaped the perils which beset him in the palace of 
Pride. He hardly dared rejoice at his wonderful 
preservation, when he reflected on his own folly in 
listening to the voice of the deceptive, though splendid 
princess, who had so long detained him a willing 
prisoner. Hitherto his courage was without dread, 
but conscious guilt now made him tremble, and the 
dangers he had passed rose to his view in redoubled 
horror. He was sad too, because in his haste, he had 
left the fair Duessa 25 exposed to all the trials of that 
house of pride and riot. And Una also, in her 
loveliness and purity arose in his mind at this moment 
of serious reflection ; and he dreaded the fate of one> 



94 

who had stained her truth with treason against her 
faithful lover. Happy had it been for this young 
knight, if he had not too readily judged by appear- 
ances, and listened too eagerly to the voice of slander ! 
Crime could find no place in the bosom of Una. 

This fair creature had wandered from western to 
eastern India, to seek him who had so cruelly forsa- 
ken her, having stopped only to recruit her fainting 
spirits and exhausted strength, till she was seized by 
the fierce Sansloy, who, after the defeat of Archimago, 
led her away into a wild forest. Here he concealed 
her, and becoming enamoured of her exquisite 
beauty, tried to win her love. He used gentle words 
and looks, sighed often, entreated, flattered ; but all 
would not do. Una abhored him, and was as stead- 
fast as a rock of diamond. He then became furious, 
tore the veil from her head, and gazed rudely on the 
sun-bright beauty of her divine face. 

1 Ye heavens ! ' she exclaimed, ' how can ye with- 
hold your vengeance, and not hurl flashing flames 
upon this bold pagan.' Shrieking with unfeigned 
agony, when he attempted to touch her pure and 
spotless form, her cries made the stars weep; and 
Phoebus, flying from so shameful a sight, hid his 
blushing face in clouds. Who now can save her ? 
who protect one so fair, so good, so helpless, from 
the unholy love of the bold, bad infidel ? Eternal 
Providence! it is thou alone can save us in our 



OR HOLINESS. 95 

utmost need. Thou canst find means, of which 
mortal man could have no conception. And thou, 
who never forsakest the faithful and the trusting, 
wrought for this helpless lady a wonderful salvation. 

The shrill outcries of Una were echoed through 
woods and forests, and reached the ears of a troop of 
fawns and satyrs, who were dancing in a far distant 
wood ; while their master, old Sylvanus, was sound 
asleep in an adjacent arbour. When they heard her 
shrieks, they hastily forsook their sports and ran 
towards that part of the forest whence the noise 
rebounded, eager to ascertain the cause of such loud 
lamentations. They soon reached the spot where 
the raging Saracen was forcibly detaining the affright- 
ed Una. When the knight beheld such a rabble of 
rude, misshapen monsters, he let go the lady, seized 
his horse, mounted, and rode rapidly, in speechless 
horror, from the forest. 

The wild wood-gods stood astonished at the bright 
beauty of Una, although she was bathed in tears, and 
with disordered hair, stood trembling with terror at 
her desolate and dangerous condition. Her dread 
was redoubled, and her amazement exceeded descrip- 
tion, at the strange beings before her. W~e have seen 
a greedy wolf suddenly seize upon a lamb, innocent 
and lovely, upon which he intended to make a bloody 
feast. We have seen a lion rush upon this wolf, 
and pursue it till the terrified creature dropped his 






96 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

gentle prey and fled to save its own life. As trembled 
and quaked, in every limb, the inoffensive lamb, 
fearing as much the lordly lion as the ravenous wolf, 
so trembled and so looked the terrified lady. She 
could not speak, she could not move. The savage 
beings around her appeared to understand her feel- 
ings, and to read her sorrows in her countenance ; 
their rustic foreheads became smoothed as if in pity ; 
a gentle grin appeared upon their rough faces, which 
bore some resemblance to a smile, as if they would 
comfort her ; and to show their readiness to obey her, 
they bent down quietly before her. 

Doubtful about the nature of these strange animals, 
the afflicted Una, between fear and hope, hardly 
dared move. She had so recently suffered by trusting 
a stranger, that she hesitated about yielding her per- 
son to these wild-looking creatures ; but they, as if in 
compassion to her youth, and wondering at the sov- 
ereign beauty of her face, fell prostrate at her feet, 
kissed them, and fawned upon them with caressing 
tenderness. Their gentleness, their evident pity, and 
the humble manner in which they seemed to proffer 
submission, encouraged her so much, that she rose 
from the ground, and walked forth from the retreat 
as if she felt perfect confidence in them. They were 
as glad as birds in spring, caroling at the approach 
of Aurora ; they danced about her, singing rustic 
ballads ; they strewed green leaves in her path, and, 



j 



OR HOLINESS. 97 

worshipping her as queen, crowned her with a gar- 
land of olives. The long, deep woods re-echoed 
with their merry pipes, and they leaped and danced 
and gambolled, like kids in spring time, till they wore 
the ground away with their horned feet ; and in this 
joyous mood, they led her to the arbour of old Syl- 
vanus, who had been awakened by the uncommon 
noise, and was coming forth, supporting his feeble 
steps with a staff of cypress wood. The aged god 
could not imagine what produced so much joy among 
his people. Perhaps, thought he, they have been 
drinking with Bacchus ; or the frantic rites of Cybele 
have made them mad. The merry group soon drew 
near, and presented to their god the flower of faith 
and beauty. Sylvanus, viewing the rare creature, 
stood amazed. Never had he seen charms so resplen- 
dent. His own fair Dyrope no longer seemed fair, 
and Pholoe had no charms, when compared with the 
beautiful Una. The wood-born people fell at her 
feet and worshipped her as goddess of the woods, 
and old Sylvanus doubted if she were born of earth. 
Sometimes he thought it was Venus who stood before 
him ; but Venus never had so sad and grave an air. 
Then he thought it might be Diana, but this fair 
creature had neither bow, nor shafts, nor buskin. 
Gazing at her in mute admiration, her beauty recalled 
to his mind one whom he once loved, his dearest 
Cyparisse. She seemed to be his living portraiture. 
9 



98 



LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 



Yet she was fairer. She also brought fresh to his 
memory the melancholy incident, which caused the 
death of that lovely boy. It was this. Sylvan us, by 
accident, slew a hind, which the affectionate child 
loved more than any worldly thing that he possessed, 
and its death caused him to pine away in anguish. 
He was self-willed and would not be comforted. 

While Sylvanus, with the fawns and satyrs, thus 
stood and knelt about Una ; the wood-nymphs came 
running to the place, and all the troop of light-footed 
naids flocked around her. Her heavenly grace and 
beauty inspired them with jealousy and envy, and 
they fled away ; but not so the satyrs ; they continued 
faithful to the fair object of their worship, and thought 
no one else on earth was lovely. Una, glad of finding 
safety among these honest wood-gods, was content to 
remain a long time with them. It seemed to her a 
merciful respite from intense misery, and she tried to 
instruct them, and teach them truth. She mildly 
restrained their worship of herself; but it was of 
little use, since they would worship the beast she 
rode upon, unless permitted to do homage to her. 

It happened at this time, that a noble knight entered 
the forest, to seek some of his kindred ; for he was 
the son of a satyr, and born in that very wood where 
Una was now resting from her long and anxious 
wanderings. The knight had been abroad, where he 
gained much fame and glory by his mighty deeds in 



OR HOLINESS. 99 

arms. He was plain, faithful, true ; an enemy to 
shame, a generous champion for the rights of fair 
ladies; but averse to vain glorious combats. His 
mother's name was Thyamis, the daughter of La- 
bryde. This lady married Therion, a rough, unruly 
hunter, who took more pleasure in chasing wild beasts 
than in serving his lady-love. She lived long and 
unhappily with him. After some years she became 
the mother of the knight who had just entered the 
forest ; and as a satyr was his father, they named the 
boy Satyrane. He was brought up in a most singular 
manner; taught from infancy to be familiar with 
ferocious beasts, to handle the lion's mane, to play 
with his whelps, to hunt, and perform all manner of 
woodland feats. When he had made every beast of 
the forest submit to his power, be began to desire 
foreign conquest, and went abroad in search of ad- 
ventures ; and never, in all his encounters in field or 
tournament, had he been conquered ; so that his fame 
was trumpeted through all fairy land. It was his 
custom to return occasionally to his native forest to 
see his father, and his other kindred ; and it was for 
this purpose that he now entered the wood. The 
sight of Una in her loveliness astonished him. She 
was seated on the ground, surrounded by the satyrs, 
to whom she was teaching religious truth. Her 
courteous manner, her rare and heavenly wisdom, 
and the sadness of her sweet face, enforced from the 

LofC. 



100 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

stranger knight both admiration and pity, and he 
became her truest disciple ; listening to her with 
delight, and learning from her the discipline of faith 
and truth. 

Una, however, took little pleasure in her new 
acquaintance. The Red Cross Knight was lord of 
her affections. She had promised to be his, and his 
only ; and at last, she resolved to acquaint Satyrane 
with her unfortunate separation from her lover ; and 
to see if he could aid her in escaping from her sylvan 
friends. Glad by any means to gain her favour, he 
soon laid the plan of their escape ; and one day, when 
all the satyrs had gone to do service to Sylvanus, and 
the maiden was left alone, Satyrane, stout and bold, 
took advantage of their absence, and led her from 
the forest ; and with great tenderness and care, hast- 
ened her rapidly on, till the woods were passed, and 
they reached the open plain. 

The day was about half spent, when they perceived 
a weary traveller walking slowly by the way-side. 
Anxious to hear if any news was abroad, they rode 
towards him at so quick a pace, that the man was, or 
pretended to be, frightened, and turned away from 
them ; however, they were too earnest about hearing 
whether the knight of the Red Cross had been seen 
in the region around the forest, to allow him to 
escape, and they rode still faster, till he was obliged 
to turn and answer their inquiries. 



OR HOLINESS. 101 

The man appeared very simple ; was dressed in 
garments much worn ; his sandals were torn and 
ragged ; his face scorched with the burning sun, as 
if he had travelled through the sands of Arabia and 
India. He had a kind of Jacob's staff in his hand, 
upon which he supported his weary limbs, and he 
carried his necessary food in a scrip on his back. 
The knight inquired of him about wars and adven- 
tures ; and whether any thing new had arisen about 
either. He answered, that he knew of nothing. Una 
then asked him if he ' had seen a knight, who bore 
upon his breast a red cross ? ' 

i Ah me, dear dame,' he replied, < I regret to tell 
thee the sad sight these eyes have seen. I have 
seen that noble knight both alive, and dead.' Una 
swooned at this sudden and abrupt announcement. 
Satyrane, with much tenderness, raised her from the 
earth, and used every kind and suitable relief, till she 
so far revived as to entreat a minute detail of all 
that related to the death of her noble lover. < I have 
heard,' said she, ' that he is dead. I can bear any 
thing now, since I live after enduring that pang.' 

The seeming pilgrim then began. ' I was travel- 
ing, this fatal day, deeply musing on the toils and 
miseries of life, when I suddenly came upon a wide 
plain, where two furious knights were trying each 
to kill the other. They fought with such blind rage, 
that all law and rule of manly combat was neglected, 
9* 



102 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

and the Red Cross Knight was soon laid dead upon 
the field.' 

6 Ah dearest lord,' cried Una, ' how can this be, 
and you so brave, so noble ! ' 

' I saw the thing done,' said the pilgrim ; ' I saw 
their swords bathed in blood; I saw him expire.' 

' Where,' inquired Satyrane, ' is that bold pagan, 
who has robbed that noble knight of life, and us, of 

joy?' 

' Not far from here,' replied the man ; ' 1 left him, 
bathing his wound at a fountain yonder.' 

Satyrane rode rapidly towards the spot, leaving the 
sorrowing Una to follow, as fast as the heaviness of 
her heart would permit. He soon found the pagan ; 
it was the cruel Sansloy, from whom Una had been 
rescued by the wood-gods. Satyrane thus addressed 
him. ' Rise, miscreant ; you, who by guile and 
treachery have slain the good knight of the Red 
Cross. Arise, and, if thou canst, maintain thy wrong ; 
or yield to my more honest sword.' 

' Misborn elfe,' replied Sansloy, ' you come in an 
evil hour ; thy foes have sent thee hither in another's 
quarrel, but you blame me without cause, and call 
me guilty and traitorous for what I have not done. 
I have not slain the Red Cross Knight ; but, had he 
been here, instead of lending his arms to another, 
he, like the vain enchanter, would have had cause 
to rue his bold attempt, as thou shalt,' 



i 



OR HOLINESS, 103 

So saying, he fell furiously upon Satyrane, and 
assailed him with thundering blows. 

Satyrane was no less fierce; and their battered 
arms, and deep wounds, soon attested the mighty 
strength of both. The fight was long and dreadful. 
It often ceased, to give breathing time to the enraged 
combatants ; and was as often renewed with bitter 
vengeance. The clash of arms at length reached 
the sad, dejected Una. She hastened to the spot, to 
behold the most revolting of earthly sights ; man, 
bathed in the blood of his fellow man, deformed 
with wounds, and mad with rage. But the proud 
Saracen, as soon as he saw the lovely Una, left the 
doubtful battle to seize his lost prize. 

Then Satyrane, striking him with his powerful 
arm, bade him desist, and attend to other business. 
' Hunt no more,' said he, 6 the steps of that unspotted 
maid. She is too pure for thee, base infidel ; away ; 
let us decide which of us twain shall win this hard- 
contested field.' 

'O, foolish fairy's son,' replied the Saracen, 'what 
mad fury incenses thee to hasten thy dreadful fate ? 
Let me have the lady, before it is too late for thee 
to repent. Senseless man, you hate yourself in loving 
her so much. But, if it must be so,' (striking him) 
* there ! take thy lover's token on thy pate.' Thus 
the fight was renewed, and the royal maiden fled 
in terror from the pagan knight. 



104 LEGEND OP ST. GEORGE, 

It was the wicked old Archimago, who had again 
deceived Una, in the guise of a holy pilgrim ; and 
he now secreted himself behind a cluster of trees, 
to behold all the misery which he had occasioned ; 
rejoicing to see the blood flow from the gashed 
bodies of these furious knights. When he saw Una 
fly, he left his hiding place and pursued the perse- 
cuted viptim of his base magic, and infernal art. The 
relation of her new afflictions, and the result of the 
protracted battle, must fill another chapter. 






CHAPTER VII. 



The Red Cross Knight is captive made 

By giant proud opprest ; 
Prince Arthur meets with Una, great- 

Ly with these news distrest. 



What man on earth is so wise, who has wit so 
rare, as to discern the craft and cunning of hypoc- 
risy? Who can discover behind the fair visor of 
deceit the deep-died colors of slander and untruth ? 
She can assume so well, can shape her gestures to 
her purpose so perfectly, and frame to truth's fair 
semblance so excellently her words and looks, that 
a guileless heart cannot chuse, but must believe such 
seeming virtue. Thus was it with Duessa. She 
was completely mistress of deceit, and assumed the 
name of Fidessa, as a mantle to conceal the hateful- 
ness of her real character. 

After this bad woman had returned from her 
journey to the infernal regions with Night, she went 
directly to the house of Pride, where she had left the 
Red Cross Knight, who she had determined should 
sooner or later become her prey. When she heard 
he had left the palace, she would stay no longer there, 
but went immediately in pursuit of him. It was not 



106 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

a long time before she found him, resting by a foun- 
tain. He was very weary, had taken off his armour, 
and had turned his horse loose to feed upon the turf. 
The knight was enjoying the feast of nature, the cool 
shade ; and was bathing his burning forehead in the 
breathing wind that floated freshly about him, and 
played among the trembling leaves. Birds were 
chanting their sweet music, and soothed his spirit, so 
long agitated by strange and sad events. 

The witch, Duessa, seeing him in this lovely retreat, 
approached him with smiles ; yet gently reproached 
him for unkindness, in leaving her so carelessly in 
such a dangerous place; artfully tempering every 
hard word with one more kind, like honey mingled 
with gall. All unkindness soon passed away, and 
they began to enjoy the luxury of the delicious shade, 
where intertwined leaves of rich green excluded 
entirely the noon tide heat. The fountain swelled up 
freshly at their feet ; a fountain that was never dry, 
even in the most fervent summers ; but the waters of 
this beautiful spring were unwholesome, producing 
feebleness and faintness in all who drank them. The 
cause was this. Diana and her nymphs were one 
day following the chase, and the nymph who was 
goddess of this fountain became so faint and weary, 
that she sunk down in the midst of the race ; at 
which Diana was so wroth, that she sentenced her to 
the disgrace of being the guardian genius of un whole- 



OR HOLINESS. 107 

some waters, and decreed that all who drank of the 
fountain should, like her, become faint and feeble. 

The knight was entirely ignorant of all this, and 
being extremely thirsty, lay down by the stream and 
drank freely of its chrystal waters. He soon felt the 
fatal effects. His mighty strength began to fail ; all 
his powers within seemed to change ; his manly 
sentiments were lost, his cheerful blood curdled in 
his veins from fear ; and a feverish heat pervaded his 
whole system. He did not appear to realize the 
change that had come over him; but talked and 
sported gaily with his fair, false companion, and 
seemed wholly to forget that he was an honorable 
knight, pledged to protect the distressed, and do all 
noble deeds. 26 

While he thus trifled away the precious hours, he 
was startled by a tremendous bellowing, that, sound- 
ing through the vast forest, seemed to make the earth 
shake and the trees tremble. The knight, astonished, 
started lightly to his feet, and began in great haste to 
put on his armour ; but before he could accomplish 
this, or possess himself of his shield, his monstrous 
enemy appeared in sight, and stalked towards him 
with sturdy steps. 

He was a hideous giant, horrible in form and height. 
His head seemed to reach the sky; the ground 
groaned beneath his tread. No living man ever before 
beheld a monster of such size. It is said that Earth 



108 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

was the mother of this strange being, and that Eolus 
was his father ; that he was very vain and arrogant, 
because of his high descent ; and presuming upon 
his matchless power, defied all the knights whom he 
met, with the greatest scorn. The knight of the 
Red Cross had become so enfeebled by the waters of 
the fountain, that he saw the giant approach in hope- 
less terror : he could scarcely wield his single lance, 
and if he had not been blessed by heavenly grace, he 
would have been ground to powder by the giant, who 
had rent from his mother Earth a scraggy oak, with 
which he battled whomsoever he met. With this 
enormous weapon he struck the knight ; the blow 
would have crushed him to atoms, had it fallen di- 
rectly upon him ; but he happily sprung aside, and, 
though the force of the strong current of air which 
was put in motion by the tree knocked him down in 
a deadly swoon, it did not kill him. The giant, seeing 
this, again heaved his enormous arm to strike a blow 
that would have crumbled him to dust, but Duessa 
cried aloud for him to spare his life. i Hold ! ' she 
cried, 'hold! great Orgoglio, 27 the greatest under 
heaven ! for my sake spare him ; make him thy bond- 
slave, and take me for thy reward.' 

Duessa was extremely beautiful, and beauty has 
great power, even when not adorned with virtue ; 
so the giant willingly granted her request, and took 
the senseless knight, and bore him in his arms to his 



OR HOLINESS. 109 

own castle. There he had him thrown, without pity 
or remorse, into a deep dungeon. Duessa followed 
the giant, and became his favorite; was highly hon- 
ored, clothed in gold and purple, a triple crown was 
placed upon her head, and she was endowed with 
royalty. To give her authority, and to make people 
fear her more, he placed her upon the most hideous 
monster ever created. It somewhat resembled the 
snake that was fostered in the lake of Lerna, and 
which Hercules slew, after a most toilsome labour, 
which was nearly endless also ; for, as soon as Her- 
cules had struck one head from the snake, another 
would instantly grow in its place. 

But the monster upon which Duessa rode was more 
dreadful still. Seven heads grew at once from his 
body, and his back was iron, covered with brass scales. 
His eyes were red as blood r yet shone like coals of 
fire ; his tail was so enormously long that when raised 
it touched the sky, and often dashed the stars down 
to earth. He would tread sacred things beneath his 
feet, and spurn at all holy behests. 

When the poor dwarf saw his master lifeless as it 
seemed, and carried away by the giant, he gathered 
up the knight's armour, the silver shield, and spear, 
which had been the death of so many valiant men, 
and laying them upon the noble courser, that was 
grazing peacefully near the fountain, moved sadly 
and in distress towards home. He had not travelled 
10 



110 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 






long, before he met his unhappy lady, who was flying 
in terror from the Saracen. As soon as her eye 
rested on the dwarf and the armour which he bore, 
she fainted, and sunk upon the earth. 28 The heart 
of the dwarf died within him at so piteous a sight, 
but he retained sufficient strength to give every 
needful assistance to his mistress, who, returning 
once more to life, burst into a heart-breaking lamen- 
tation. ' Ye dreary instruments of sight,' she ex- 
claimed, ' why do you behold this spectacle ? why do 
you linger, and feed on the light of heaven, now his 
life is destroyed in which my life and love were 
centred? Come, darkest night ! and hide these ob- 
jects from my view ; and you, lightsome day ! whom 
Jove first made to guide us in the paths of peace and 
virtue, hide thy hated face, shut up heaven's windows, 
and close my eyes on vanities forever.' Again the 
afflicted Una fainted; and not till the passing off 
of her third fit could she listen composedly to the 
dwarf's history of events, since he left her in the 
house of Archimago. When she had heard all, and 
ascertained that there was some hope that the Knight 
of the Red Cross was yet alive, she resolved to renew 
her journeyings, in company with the dwarf; and, 
constant to her purpose, she endured storms, bitter 
winds, travelled over hills and through vallies, search- 
ed every wood and every dale. One day, she happily 
met a renowned knight with his esquire. His armour 



OR HOLINESS. Ill 

was exceedingly rich ; it glittered like the brightest 
rays of Phoebus, and it was so compact that no mortal 
weapon could find an entrance. Across his breast 
was a bauldric covered with precious stones, like stains 
in brilliancy, and in the middle of the bauldric was 
a stone, shaped like a lady's head : its size, beauty 
and worth were incalculable. It looked like Hesper- 
is among the lesser stars. From this was suspended 
his sword, sheathed in ivory of curious workmanship. 
The hilt was burnished gold, and the handle mother 
of pearl. Brightness and terror were united in his 
helmet. For the crest was a wrought golden 
dragon with extended claws and spread wings, and 
his head was closely couched on the beaver, seeming 
to throw from his mouth flames of bright, sparkling 
red; the tail, glittering with scales of gold, stretched 
low down upon the knight's shoulders. The top of 
this splendid helmet was adorned with hair of various 
colors, sprinkled with pearl and gold ; it seemed to 
dance for joy as the noble horseman moved gracefully 
along. It looked like a tall almond tree, standing 
alone on green Selinis, bedecked with delicate blos- 
soms, whose slender stems tremble at every breath 
that blows under the heaven. The warlike shield 
that was borne by this wonderful knight, was veiled ; 
no mortal eye could look upon it. It was neither 
brass nor steel, nor any earthly metal, but a pure 
diamond, one, entire, and massy. It was hewn from 



112 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

a rock of adamant ; no spear could pierce it, no sword 
divide its substance. He never unveiled its glories 
except to dismay some monster, to daunt unequal 
armies, or to fright the hosts of heavenly bodies. It 
paled the gold face of Phoebus, as if a cloud passed 
over it ; and silver Cynthia fainted when its glistening 
ray shone upon her. No magic arts had any power 
in presence of this shield, the bloody words of en- 
chanters no effect. All that was not pure, sincere, 
honest, faded away before it, and when the knight 
chose to appal a rascally mob, or defeat unlawful 
combinations, he could transform men into stones, 
and stones into dust, and dust to nothing, by its power. 
He could make blind the proud, and turn their beauty 
to deformity. 

Let not the truth of this account be doubted, for he 
that made this shield has done more wondrous deeds. 
It was Merlin, who excelled all people living in magic 
arts, that wrought this shield, and all the armour in 
which this noble knight was cased. In after years, 
when this knight died, the faerie queene brought all 
this wondrous armor to fairy land, where it may be 
found by those who seek for it. The youth who 
attended upon this knight was gentle, and much 
loved by his master. He rode a noble horse with 
great skill ; for the animal seemed to tread on air, and 
to rebel at all restraint, trampling, champing his iron 
bits, and foaming with repressed ardor. 29 



OR HOLINESS. 118 

The stranger knight addressed Una with courtesy 
and respect ; but when he heard her reluctant an- 
swers, and low, sad tones, he knew that some sorrows 
weighed heavy upon her heart, and suiting his manner 
to the lady's dejected mood, he spoke to her so gently, 
and with such respectful tenderness, that her heart 
was moved, and she thus answered his courteous 
inquiries. ' Sir knight, such heavy cause of grief is 
now upon me, that I can take no joy in conversation 
My heart is plunged into a sea of misery. Cold chills 
creep through my veins, when I reflect upon my 
bitter woes ; it will do no good, and only increase 
my troubles, to relate them ; for I have now only one 
comfort left, and that is leave to weep.' 

' Dear lady,' replied the knight, ' I see your grief, 
and my spirit sympathizes with yours ; but let me 
entreat you to repose trust in my sacred honour and 
impart to me all your causes for anguish. Many 
difficulties are conquered by discreet advice, and wise 
counsel mitigates our distress. He never can be 
cured, who will not let his wounds be healed.' 

' Oh,' she replied, ' great grief cannot be told. It is 
more easily thought than said.' 

6 True, lady,' returned the knight, < he that will not, 
cannot ; but ivill gives power to utter all we wish or 
feel.' 

' Sir knight,' answered Una, < grief grows greater, 
10* 



114 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

when displayed to the view of others, and if it does 
not find relief, it breeds despair.' 

' Not so, fair lady, it does not breed despair if our 
faith is firm.' 

' No faith,' replied the afflicted maiden, ' is so strong 
that flesh will not impair it.' 

* If flesh does impair it,' he answered, ' reason 
will repair it.' 

The gentle words and sound reasoning of the 
knight sunk deep into the mind of Una, and she 
consented to disclose to him the story of her misfor- 
tunes. ' Fair sir,' she began, ' I hope kind fortune 
has sent you to inquire into my history ; and that 
your wisdom will enable me to act wisely, and your 
prowess will yield me much needed relief. The 
forlorn maiden whom you see before you, the laugh- 
ing-stock of fortune, is the only daughter of a king 
and queen. My parents once reigned over all that 
territory surrounded by Phison, Euphrates, and Ge- 
shon. They were driven from their rightful inher- 
itance by a tremendous dragon, horrible to the sight. 
It was bred in the loathsome lake of Tartary, and to 
escape being devoured by the monster, my parents 
were obliged to take refuge in a strong castle, secured 
by brazen walls, where he has continued to besiege 
them day and night, for many years. Many adven- 
turous knights, stout and brave, have endeavoured to 









O R H0L1NE S S. 115 

subdue him, but in vain ; he has grown more and 
more powerful, and all the knights, either from want 
of faith, or because stained with crimes, have fallen 
victims to his boundless rage and cruelty. 

' At last I became so anxious to liberate my beloved 
parents, that I myself went to the court of Gloriana, 
the far-famed queen of fairy land. Fame had spread 
far and wide the names of powerful knights who 
served this glorious maiden princess, the capital of 
whose kingdom is Cleopolis. To this city and court 
I went, and besought that sovereign lady to let me 
chuse a champion from among her noblest warriors. 
I was so fortunate as to select a young knight, who 
was fresh and unproved. His hands had never shed 
human blood, nor had he ever thrown in knightly 
lists a brave compeer, by traitorous means. 

'And, indeed, he has given proof of prowess, 
beyond praise, as this his shield and armour can well 
witness ; now left, the records of his hard fate, and my 
too heavy loss. I had hope, (and the beginning was 
most fair,) that he would redeem me and my parents 
from captivity. But, a vile enchanter abused his 
senses, and made him believe I was disloyal. Rather 
would I have died. Witness, ye heavens, how I 
loved him ! I thought him true and noble, and yet 
believe that I thought right. But he has left me 
desolate, to wander where wild fortune directs, and 



116 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE. 

took himself to paths and ways so dangerous, that 
scarcely one ever lived who travelled thither. 

6 In some of these bewildering mazes he met my 
only enemy, my only dread, the false Duessa. She, 
with her withcraft and pretended goodness, inveigled 
him to follow her ; and leading him into the paths of 
guilty pleasure, betrayed him to a giant of enormous 
bulk. The noble knight had enfeebled his own 
powers by unholy indulgence, and soon fell, helpless 
and senseless, before his wicked adversary, and in 
that state was conveyed to a loathsome dungeon. 
Remediless woe awaits him ; for who can rescue him 
from a conqueror so merciless ? This, sir knight, is 
my cause of grief, and can the half be told ? ' 

She had scarcely ended before she again grew 
faint ; but the knight consoled her with these words : 
'Certainly, madam, you have great cause for com- 
plaint under which the stoutest heart might quake ; 
but be of good cheer, and take comfort to j^ourself ; 
for till 1 have restored your captive knight, I will not 
leave you.' 

These cheerful words revived her sinking spiritSj 
and she agreed to accompany him, guided by the 
faithful dwarf. 



CHAPTER VIII. 



Fair virgin to redeem her dear, 

Brings Arthur to the fight ; 
Who slays the giant, wounds the beast, 

And strips Duessa quite. 



Many perils beset the path of a righteous man, 
and he would certainly fall, if he were not upheld by- 
heavenly Grace and steadfast Truth. The love of 
Truth is firm and continual ; she supports man in all 
his weaknesses, and saves him when folly, pride and 
sin are striving to destroy him. Had it not been for 
Grace and Truth, the Red Cross Knight must have 
died in bondage. 

When the travelers had rode sadly for some hours 
the dwarf cried out, 'there is the strong and high 
castle, in which my lord, my liege, is laid, deep in 
some dungeon, subjected to the power of that enor- 
mous giant. Now, noble sir, try your mighty powers.' 

The knight instantly alighted from his courser, and 
requested the lady to stay at a safe distance and see 
what would be the issue of his attempt. He then 
approached, with his esquire, to the castle gate. It 
was fast closed. No warden nor living man was to 



118 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE. 

be seen ; nor could he get any answer from within 
its walls. Now his attendant wore at his side a small 
bugle of twisted gold, ornamented with gay tassels. 
Of things that excite wonder among men, nothing 
ever equaled this little horn. Its virtues were man- 
ifold and astonishing. There never was mortal being 
that could hear its thrilling sound without fear and 
trembling. It might be heard, in all its power, at 
three miles distant, and would be echoed three times 
from every rock and hill. No enchanters, no deceit- 
ful trains, could withstand the terror of that blast: 
themselves, their power, all vanished instantly before 
it. No gate was strong enough to resist it ; no lock 
firm enough to abide its force. Gates, doors, locks, 
flew open, as its piercing note filled the surrounding 
air. 

At the blast of this bugle the castle shook to its 
foundation, and every door and gate was instantly 
unlocked and opened. The giant was dismayed, and 
rushed from an inner bower, where he had been 
sitting with Duessa. His countenance was stern ; he 
looked astonished, and his feet staggered ; such sud- 
den and strange horror was created by that blast. 
His anger also was furious at such defiance of his 
power. Duessa, on her many-headed beast, followed 
the giant. Every head upon this monster displayed 
its fiery tongue, and every mouth was stained with a 
late bloody feast. 









OR HOLINESS. 119 

The knight, when he saw such terrible beings 
approaching, seized his shield, fixed it upon his arm, 
and began a fierce attack upon his foes. The giant, 
inflamed with wrath, scorn, and disdain, with his 
enormous club raised high, rushed upon Arthur, 
determined at one blow to destroy the knight ; but 
this noble youth was wise and wary ; he sprang aside 
and escaped certain death. The club, missing the 
knight, sunk three yards into the earth, making a 
long, deep furrow ; and by its heavy fall, it produced 
an earthquake, filling all who heard it with strange 
fear and trembling. It sounded like a thunderbolt, 
tearing, rending, and casting up a mountain of clay. 
While the giant was trying to wrench this club from 
the cleft ground, Arthur took advantage, and smote 
off" one arm with his burning sword. The desperate 
and deadly wound caused the terrified giant to roar 
aloud, making all the fields and woods rebellow, as if 
a herd of bulls were roaring with raging hunger. 

When Duessa saw the danger that must result to 
herself from the situation of her protector, she drew 
up to his assistance with her terrific beast, which, 
having been lately full fed with human flesh, stepped 
proudly, and brandished his flaming tongues in pre- 
sumptuous defiance. The brave youth, who waited 
on prince Arthur, attacked this creature fiercely with 
a single sword ; and stood like a bulwark between 
him and his master. The proud Duessa was so full 



120 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

of disdain at this affront, that she forced her beast 
onward with all her power, scorning the efforts of so 
young and so unequal an enemy ; but the boy would 
not yield, restraining the monster with tremendous 
blows, and placing his own body between her and his 
noble lord. The angry witch then resorted to her last 
deadly means of overpowering the much-enduring 
and matchless youth. She carried about with her a 
golden cup, filled with magic arts. Those who drank 
from it were poisoned ; despair seized them and they 
longed for death. Repeating over some charm and 
enchantment, she sprinkled the contents of her cup 
over him. His courage failed and his senses forsook 
him ; he sank down before the beast, who placed his 
claw upon his neck, almost crushing him to death. 
Arthur soon discovered the danger of his beloved 
page, and turned instantly to the frightful beast, and 
struck off one of its deformed heads. The creature 
roared in agony, raised its enormous tail, beating the 
air, and nearly threw his gorgeous rider to the blood- 
stained earth, by the violence of his own wrath. 30 

The giant, perceiving Duessa's danger, came with 
tremendous power to her assistance. Though he 
had lost an arm, his strength was not abated, and the 
smart of his wound only increased his fury. The 
knight Was forced to give way, and the giant almost 
crushed him by one blow of his oak-tree club. The 
encounter was so sudden and so powerful, that Ar- 



OR HOLINESS. 121 

thur's wondrous shield was unfolded by his fall. The 
light of it so far exceeded the light of day, it sent 
such blazing brightness through the air, that the eye 
could not endure it. The giant let fall his arm, and 
dropped his huge weapon ; the many headed beast 
became stark blind from the intolerable radiance, and 
fell senseless to the ground ; and Duessa, seeing her 
beast about to fall, called out in terror, ' O help, 
Orgoglio, help, or we all perish ! ' Her champion 
was moved with compassion at this appeal, and tried 
once more to raise his weapon in her defence ; but in 
vain. Since the glancing sight of that insufferable 
shield, his force was gone ; he had neither power to 
hurt, or to defend. That shield, like lightning from 
the clouds of heaven, had paralyzed his senses, and 
dimmed his dazzled eye. 31 In this state, the long 
dreaded giant was again attacked by the prince, and 
killed. He fell, like some aged tree, whose mighty 
trunk, half rent, and half hewn by a keen axe, is 
tumbled from an immense rock, or like some castle, 
reared high and huge, which has been undermined 
from its lowest foundations, and falls in one mass of 
heavy ruins. The earth shook and quaked for fear 
when Arthur struck his head from his gigantic shoul- 
ders, and he fell prostrate on the field ; yet, in a few 
moments, the huge mass of flesh shrivelled like an 
emptied bladder. 

Duessa, when she saw that the giant was indeed 
11 



122 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

dead, made loud lamentations; threw down her 
golden cup, took off her crown, and leaving them 
behind, fled in great terror ; but the young squire of 
prince Arthur pursued, and forced her to return to 
his master, as his rightful prey. 32 

The royal Una, who had beheld the dreadful battle, 
and witnessed the wonderful courage and wisdom of 
the prince, and his noble attendant, came hastily 
towards them, in sober gladness, and mild modesty, 
and first addressed Arthur in these words: * Fair 
branch of nobleness, flower of chivalry ! thou hast 
astonished the world with thy worth and bravery ! 
how shall I ever requite the pain and danger you have 
suffered for my sake ? ' Then turning to his page, 
she said, ' and you, fresh bud of virtue, whom these 
sad eyes saw so near to death, what has a poor 
wanderer like me to give you for such peril ? ' 

She next intreated that Duessa should be retained 
a prisoner, telling the knight that it was her arts that 
had seduced her dearest lord, and caused his impris- 
onment. The knight commanded his esquire to 
secure Duessa, and then entered the castle ; 33 but he 
could find no living creature. A solemn silence 
reigned over the entire building ; not a voice nor a 
sound was heard ; but at last a miserable old man, 
named Ignaro, came with a creeping pace towards 
him ; he was blind and feeble, and carried a bunch of 
rusty keys upon his arm. He was a strange being, 



OR HOLINESS. 123 

and his feet were turned in such a way that his eyes 
could not see the way he was going, but he looked 
behind, while he moved forward. 

The knight addressed him respectfully, (for he 
always honored a grey head,) and gently inquired 
where all the people were ? < I do not know,' said 
the old man. 

' Where is the knight confined, whom Orgoglio 
brought and imprisoned here ? ' 

1 1 do not know,' he again answered. 

* Which way may I pass ? ' inquired the knight. 

* 1 do not know ! ' said the old man. 

The courteous prince became angry. * Old sire,' 
said he, ' it does not become your silver head to mock 
in this way ; but if indeed you are as aged as nature's 
pen has portrayed you to be, answer gravely what I 
demand of thee.' 

{ I do not know,' replied the old man, for the fourth 
time. 

The prince now looked steadfastly at the face of 
this queer being, and guessed his nature ; so stepping 
towards him, he took the keys from his arm, and 
entered the various rooms of the castle. There was 
great display of wealth in all of them. The arras 
was royal and magnificent ; resplendent gold glittered 
on every article of furniture ; but the floors were 
filthy beyond description ; infants had been murdered 
there, and blood had flowed over the marbled pave- 



124 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

ments. In one room was a stone altar, on which 
christian martyrs had been slain ; victims of super- 
stition, and malice, and tyranny. 

The knight passed quickly by these horrid proofs 
of guilt, to find where the Red Cross Knight was 
concealed; and, after much difficulty, found him 
nearly dead in a very deep, dark, unwholesome dun- 
geon. Three months had passed since he had seen 
the light ; for his dungeon was as much deeper, as it 
was filthier, than any other prison ; and prince Arthur 
was annoyed beyond measure by the smell, and the 
collection of dirt, in which the wretched man was 
plunged. But disinterested love has no reluctance to 
soil hands, or breathe unwholesome air, when misery 
is to be relieved, and duty performed. 

St. George was altered so much by his sufferings 
that few would have known him ; his flesh was con- 
sumed, his eyes sunk deep into his head, his skin 
shriveled, and his vital powers decayed. When Una 
saw him she ran with hasty joy to meet him, though 
much shocked to see one so lately in the freshest 
flower of youth, pale and wan ; and bursting into 
tears, she said, ' Ah, dearest lord ! what evil star has 
frowned upon you, and thus robbed you of yourself ? 
But welcome, my lord, welcome in weal or woe. 
Long and dreary has your absence been, and fortune 
shall pay treble penance for the wrongs she has done 
me, by now granting treble good.' 



i 



OR HOLINESS. 125 

The enfeebled and cheerless knight could not 
answer ; he was enduring the extremity of hunger, 
and could not listen even to his Una. i Fair lady,' 
said prince Arthur, 'your friend has endured too 
much to delight in hearing his woes refered to. The 
only good that can grow out of thinking of the past, 
is to be wise in future. This day's example has 
written one truth with an iron pen upon my heart, 
that perfect bliss cannot abide with man in his mortal 
state.' 

Then turning to the knight of the Red Cross, he 
said, 'henceforth, sir knight, assume your wonted 
strength, and conquer misfortune by patient endur- 
ance. There is your foe dead before you, and here 
is the bold, bad woman, who has been the root of all 
your care and trouble. She is in your power, to let 
her live or die.' 

' It were revenge to kill her,' said Una, ' and it would 
be a shame to knighthood to destroy so weak an en- 
emy. Strip off her scarlet robe and let her go.' The 
royal maiden was obeyed, and Duessa was disrobed : 
her purple and gold ornaments, and all her queen's 
attire were taken from her, leaving her deformed, and 
horrible to the sight. She was a loathsome, wrinkled 
hag, too disgusting to be described. Her feet were 
monstrous ; one of them was like the claw of an 
eagle, the other like a bear's paw. 

When the two knights beheld this monster, they 
11 * 



126 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

were amazed, and Una thus addressed them : ' Such, 
gentlemen, is the face of falsehood, such the appear- 
ance of foul Duessa, when she lays aside her borrowed 
light.' After taking from the witch every article of 
borrowed finery, they let her go naked into the world, 
to wander where ever she chose. She fled rapidly to a 
waste wilderness ; for she hated the light of heaven, 
and wanted to screen her open shame from all eyes. 
She lurked about in rocks and caves for a long time, 
and was not seen by any one. Una, with the two 
noble knights, and their attendants, entered the castle, 
and remained there till their weary limbs were rested, 
and their exhausted powers replenished. 



I 



CHAPTER IX. 



His loves and lineage Arthur tells : 
The knights knit friendly bands : 

Sir Trevisan flies from Despair, 

Whom Red Cross Knight withstands. 



There is a goodly golden chain, which links 
together all the virtues in a most lovely manner; 
and so in days of yore, were noble minds linked 
together, in all brave pursuits of chivalry. No one 
despised the safety of another, or hesitated to give 
aid to such as required it. Each embraced every 
opportunity to advance the praise, the interest, and 
the happiness of the others, in the same manner as 
prince Arthur had redeemed the Red Cross Knight 
from bondage. 

After resting in the castle long enough to see the 
late captive restored to health and strength, prince 
Arthur proposed that they should no longer remain 
there, in ease and leisure, but go forth, like true 
knights, in search of adventures. But Una besought 
him to relate his history 34 before they left the castle, 
that she might know his name and nation, and be 



128 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

able to record the great good which he had wrought 
for her. 

'You require, fair maiden,' said the prince, 'a 
thing that comes not within the compass of my 
wit. I neither know my lineage, nor my sire. As 
soon as I was born, I was delivered to a faerie knight, 
to be brought up in all martial exercises and gentle- 
manly qualities. He placed me with old Timon, 
who, in his youth, was the expertest man alive in all 
warlike achievements; and is now, I believe, the 
wisest man on earth. He dwells, in a low, green 
valley at the foot of mossy Rauran, whence the river 
Dee's silver stream rolls, gently murmuring to the 
ocean. In that spot all my days have been spent, and 
he has trained me up in virtue and in wisdom. The 
magician Merlin often came to our retreat ; for he 
had charge to see that I was properly disciplined and 
provided with tutors. I often asked him privately 
about my lineage, and who my father was. His 
answers were always to this effect: that time would 
bring the truth to light, and that I was certainly son 
and heir to a king.' 

'Noble knight,' replied the lady, 'well do you 
become such a tutor's hand. But what intent or 
what adventure has brought you hither to faerie land ? 
Tell us, prince Arthur, crown of martial heroes.' 

' Full hard is the task,' he replied, ' to tell the cause 






OR HOLINESS. 129 

of events, over which we have no control, and which 
are guided by the hand of God, who rules our 
thoughts and actions. I know not what cause brought 
me hither. Perhaps He has some secret purpose^ 
unguessed by me ; perhaps the fresh bleeding wound 
in my own heart urges me on to seek relief in dan- 
gerous adventure ; but be the cause what it may, I 
hold myself blest in having helped you in your 
distress.' 

i Most courteous knight,' she replied, ' what could 
wound the gentlest heart alive ? ' 

' Dear lady,' said he, c you are rekindling sparks, 
that will burst into flame, I fear, and destroy my life ; 
but, whether I grieve in silence, or speak aloud, the 
fire consumes me ; therefore I will reveal what you, 
in so much kindness, desire to know. I was in the 
flower of youth, the time when manly courage fills 
the soul, and the heart opens to the sentiment of 
pure and generous love, when old Timon undertook 
to caution and wisely instruct me about both. Par- 
ticular^^ did he caution me respecting love ; that I 
should not let it subdue my reason, and thus produce 
ever new and ever increasing woes. Thus taught, 
I scorned the idle life led by romantic lovers, as 
the destruction of time, and the enemy of virtue. I 
laughed at that tragic sorrow which they assumed, 
and ridiculed the pains they took to blow up a fire 
that was consuming them. The god of Love was 



130 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 






grieved at the liberty I took with his victims, and 
was continually shooting arrows from his bow at me. 
I warded them off, for a long time, by prudent gov- 
ernment of myself. But in vain do we trust in our 
own strength. Without the aid of faith, and trust 
in God ; without looking to Him for aid in all our 
efforts, no human breast can be so armed as not to 
be in danger of a wound. Nothing is sure that is 
not founded on religion ; and the man that hopes to 
escape from lurking foes, and hopes not to be caught 
at disadvantage, must look to God for assistance. 
This, dear lady, is proved by the sufferings of your 
noble knight, and by mine. 

' One day I rode forth, feeling life a blessing, for 
vigour was in every limb, and as I ranged fields and 
forests, the heavens, the earth, the floods all seemed 
to laugh with me in the joy of mere existence. 
Wearied at length by riding, T sprung off my lofty 
steed, and laid down upon the grass to sleep, taking 
my helmet for a pillow. My slumber was sweet, and 
1 dreamed that a royal maiden approached me. Her 
words ravished my heart, and her exceeding beauty 
astonished me. Never was form of earthly mould 
so exquisite. She addressed me in love's kindest 
accents, and assured me that her love was strong 
and sincere, and that she was the Queene of the 
Fairies. I awoke in an ecstasy of delight, but the 
fair vision had fled, and from that day forth I have 



j 



OR HOLINESS. 131 

loved that form and face divine ; and, believing that 
such a being really lives on earth, I am seeking her 
day and night ; and it is here in faerie land alone, 
that I can expect to find its queene. Nine months 
have I sought her, and I have vowed never to rest, 
till I have found her.' 35 The prince turned pale 
at this recital of his nearly hopeless love, so hard 
was the struggle in his mind between his affection 
and his prudence. 

Una exclaimed, when he had ended his story, 
1 O happy faerie queene ! you have found among 
many, one, who may defend thine honor, and con- 
found thy foes. True love is often planted ; but it 
rarely grows on earthly soil.' 

6 Thine, fairest virgin,' said the knight of the Red 
Cross, ' must be placed next to that of the faerie 
queene's. Thou art full of heavenly light, and won- 
drous faith. In my extremest case, thou hast loved 
me truly, and you, my lord,' addressing the prince, 
c you, the patron of my life, are worthy of that great 
queen ; if living man can be worthy.' 

Thus interchanging sentiments of confidence and 
friendship, the two knights and the royal maiden 
conversed, till the sun began to illumine the eastern 
horizon. The prince then expressed renewed desires 
to pursue his travels, and Una also was very anxious 
to be going. The knights interchanged gifts of re- 
membrance, and joined their right hands in token of 



132 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

lasting friendship. The prince gave to St. George a 
diamond box, which enclosed a few drops of pure 
liquor of wondrous power, for it would heal at once 
the severest wounds, and the Red Cross Knight gave 
the prince a book containing our Saviour's testament. 
It was written in rich golden letters ; and was full 
of grace and truth, able to save the souls of men. 
The friends then parted. Arthur to seek his love, 
and St. George to fight with Una's foe, and deliver 
her realms from the usurper's power. 

But the knight had not recovered his flesh and 
strength : and Una travelled slowly, for she did not 
want to expose him to dangers, till he was again in 
possession of all his youthful powers. So they rode 
leisurely along, enjoying the balmy air and lovely 
scenery ; till they espied an armed knight, riding 
rapidly towards them. He appeared to be fleeing 
in fear, as if he had seen some terrible thing, for he 
continually looked back as he fled, and urged on his 
horse, which seemed to have winged feet, and to be 
descended from Pegasus. As he drew near, they 
could see that his head was unarmed, his hair uncurled 
and uncombed, upstarted and stiff with terror. He 
was deadly pale, and, (O, foul reproach to knight- 
hood !) he wore about his neck an hempen rope, 
which ill accorded with his glistening armour. The 
Red Cross Knight rode hastily towards him, saying, 
' sir knight, tell who has thus frightened you, and 



OR HOLINESS. 133 

from whom you are making this hasty flight ? I 
never saw a knight in such a mis-seeming condition. 5 

He answered not. New fear seemed added to 
amazement ; his stony eyes lost all expression ; he 
seemed petrified, as if he had seen all the furies 
let loose upon him. Again, and again, the Red 
Cross Knight addressed him ; but he spake not ; 
and trembled in every joint. After several efforts 
he at last faltered forth these words. ' For God ! 
dear love, sir knight, do not stop me; for see, he 
comes, he comes, fast upon me ! ' and looking back, 
he would again have raced on, but St. George forced 
him to stay and tell the cause of his perplexity. 

He was obliged, in his own defence, though grow- 
ing more and more terrified, to say { Am I now in 
safety, from him, who was about to kill me? is the 
point of death turned from me ? ' 

4 Fear nothing,' said our knight, ' no danger is near 
you.' 

' Then,' replied the stranger, ' I will tell you a 
rueful case. I was lately in company with a fair 
knight, sir Tirwin, called. He was bold and free ; 
but not so happy as he might have been ; for he 
loved a lady, who, though she loved him, was proud, 
and delighted to see her lover languish and lament. 
From this lady returning one day, sad and comfort- 
less, we met that villain from whom I have just 
escaped; a man of hell, that calls himself Despair. 
12 






134 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

He greeted us kindly, and told us of strange tidings 
and adventures ; and, creeping closely to our sides, 
inquired about our condition and our knightly deeds. 
When he had learned our griefs, he artfully drew 
from us all hope, and advised us to die at once ; for 
which purpose he gave me this rope, and to the 
other knight, he gave a rusty knife, with which, 
hopeless of gaining his lady's love, and hating life, 
he killed himself, and I fled hither, dismayed with 
the shocking sight. Nor am I yet assured of life by 
you, sir knight, for God has not permitted you to 
hear his charmed speeches.' 

' How can a man,' replied the good St. George, 
' be won to destroy his own life ? ' 

'I would not,' replied the other, i for all this 
world's wealth, listen again to that man's words. 
His subtle tongue drops honied poison into the 
heart, which searches every vein, till one is reft of 
all strength. O may I never see or hear him again ! ' 
' Certainly, said the Red Cross Knight,' I shall never 
rest, till I have seen him and tried his power ; and 
you, sir knight, whose name I beg to know, will do 
me the grace to guide me to his cabin.' 

' My name is Trevisan,' replied he, ' and I will 
ride back, against my liking, to oblige you ; but 
neither for gold nor glee would I abide by you when 
you have arrived there ; for I had rather die, than 
see that face again.- 



OR HOLINESS, 135 

The knights rode on and soon arrived at a low 
hollow cave, beneath a craggy cliff, where wicked 
Despair had his abiding place. It was dark, doleful, 
dreary, like a greedy grave that craves for carrion 
carcases. A ghastly owl stood on the cliff, shrieking 
his baleful note, which drove from that hated spot 
all cheerful birds. The trees hung from the rocks, 
stubby, old, and leafless, on which many a despair- 
ing wretch had hung himself. When they reached 
the spot, the bare headed knight wanted to go back, 
for he was afraid; but the other obliged him to 
remain, and comforted him with hope ; they there- 
fore entered the cave together. The man was sit- 
ting in a musing, sullen posture upon the ground ; 
his grisly locks hung long and loosely about his 
shoulders, and over his face. His dull, deadly, 
staring eye was seen through them; his face was 
thin and ghastly ; his garments were ragged and 
pined together with thorns ; and beside him lay 
the weak, foolish knight to whom he had given the 
rusty knife; it was sticking in the wound from 
which the life blood was still flowing. When the 
Red Cross Knight beheld this appalling sight, he 
determined to destroy the cause of so much evil, and 
said to the old man, ' Thou art the author of this 
deed ; and justice demands that you should die. 
Death is the price of blood.' 

' What frantic fit,' replied the old man, < has dis- 



136 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

traded thee, that thou givest so rash a doom ? Jus- 
tice says, that he ought to die, who does not deserve 
to live. His own guilty miud drove this man to 
despair, I did not draw him. Let him die that hates 
life ; and let him live and die in peace, who lives 
here to assist weary travellers. If a man is travelling 
in haste to his home, and meets a flood, is it not 
kind to help him over it ? Or to free his feet, if he 
stick in the mire? You are an envious man, to 
grieve at your neighbors' good ; and foolish, to re- 
joice in your own woes. If you will not pass the 
flood, why would you prevent him, who has long 
stood upon the bank, from passing over? This 
man,' he added, pointing to the bleeding body beside 
him, ' enjoys eternal rest, and happy ease, from 
which, though you crave them, you go farther and 
farther every day. Supposing he did have some 
pain in passing the bitter waves, it was short and 
well borne, and his soul sleeps in a quiet grave. 
Nothing is more grateful to man, than sleep after 
toil, a port after passing stormy seas, peace after war, 
and death after life.' The knight was astonished 
at the ready wit of this artful destroyer, who went 
on to say, c The term of life is limited ; man can- 
not prolong nor shorten it. Does not every thing 
come from God ; and is it not his deed, whatever 
is done in heaven or earth ? Did he not create all, 
that all might die ? Are not their times written in 



OR HOLINESS. VS7 

the eternal book of fate ? Who then can strive 
against strong necessity, or shun the death which 
destiny has ordained ? The longer you live, the 
greater will be your sin, and the greater your pun- 
ishment. All your great battles, all your strife, your 
bloodshed and vengeance, now so much praised, 
you will hereafter dearly repent ; for life must pay 
for life, and blood for blood. It is not enough that 
you intend to do better in future ; he that has once 
missed the right way always goes more and more 
astray from virtue. Therefore I advise thee to go 
no farther ; lie down here and be at rest, for what 
is there in life to make you love it ? Fear, sickness, 
loss, labour, sorrow, strife, pain, hunger, cold, and 
even fickle fortune. All of which, and a thousand 
more things, make life hateful. Thou, wretched 
man, hast greatest need of death ; for never knight 
had more luckless adventures ; as witness the deep 
dungeon wherein you were lately shut up to die. 
And though good luck has prolonged your date a 
little longer, it would have been happier for you, 
had you died then. Why, O man of sin, do you 
desire to live ? Is not the measure of your guilt 
full ? Are not your iniquities already heaped to a 
fearful height ? Is it not enough, that you forsook 
this gentle lady and abused and disgraced yourself 
with the vile Duessa ? Is not God just, who beholds 
all this from heaven ? Shall he leave thy sins un- 
12* 



138 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

punished ? Is not this his law, let every sinner die, 
and is it not better to die willingly, than to linger 
till the glass lose all its sand ? Death is the end of 
all woe ; die soon, O faerie's son.' 

The knight was so moved with the old man's 
words ; his conscience was so awakened by them to 
a sense of crimes ; they made him so abhorent to 
himself, that all his manly powers forsook him, and 
he fainted many times during the heart searching 
address. When the base old man saw him thus 
wavering and weak, and perceived that conscious 
guilt had filled his soul with anguish, he determined 
to drive him to despair, and held up before him a 
painting, in which ghosts in torment, and fiends, and 
fire and brimstone were pictured. 36 The horrid 
scene so overpowered the judgment and reason of 
the knight, that he beheld nothing but death and 
burning wrath as the righteous sentence of the law of 
heaven. Seeing this, the villain brought him swords, 
and ropes, and poison, and fire, and bade him 
choose which he would die by, for he must die, since 
he had provoked the anger of his God. But when 
he saw that the knight would not touch these, he 
brought him a keen and polished dagger, and gave 
it into his hand ; the hand trembled ; and the blood 
was seen, through his pale face, coming and going 
with tidings from the heart, as if it had been a run- 
ing messenger. At last he resolved to kill himself, 
and raised his hand to strike the blow. 



OR HOLINESS. 139 

But Una, whose blood curdled, and ran cold to the 
very well of life, snatched the knife from his hand, 
and threw it on the ground, enraged at his weakness 
and cowardice. ' Fie, fie, faint hearted knight,' said 
she, ' what do you mean by this disgraceful strife ? 
Is this the battle you have long vaunted that you were 
to fight, with the fiery-mouthed dragon, so horrible, 
and bright ? Come, come away, frail, feeble, fleshly 
wight. Let not wicked thoughts dismay you, nor 
vain, artful words bewitch you. Hast thou not a 
part in heavenly mercies ? Why should you, chosen 
to perform a glorious deed, by highest heaven, des- 
pair ? Where ever there is justice, there grace will be 
given ; the grace which quenches the fire enkindled 
by guilt, and effaces the dreadful hand-writing from 
the wall. Arise, sir knight, arise, and leave this place 
of crime and horror.' 

He obeyed this imperative call to duty, and rose 
up instantly, remounted his horse, and left the re- 
gion of Despair. When the carle beheld his guest 
depart in safety, in despite of all his art, he resolved 
to hang himself, and seized a halter for that purpose. 
He had tried to do this, a thousand times before ; 
but death would not come to aid his unblest, unbid- 
en attempts. He could not die, till he should die his 
last — that is, eternally. 



CHAPTER X. 



Her faithful knight fair Una brings 

To house of holinesse ; 
Where he is taught repentance, and 

The way to heavenly bliss. 



By that which lately happened, Una saw that her 
knight was feeble and faint, through his long impris- 
onment ; and that he was unfit to struggle against 
spiritual foes ; and, therefore, she proposed that he 
should visit a retreat, where he would have generous 
food, and leisure to recruit his strength. There was 
an ancient house, not far distant, which was renown- 
ed throughout the world, not for its splendor, but for 
the sacred lore, and the unspotted life of her who 
governed and guided it. She was a wise and grave 
matron, and her only joy was to instruct the ignorant, 
relieve the wretched, and help the poor. She spent 
her nights in prayer, and her days in doing good. 
She was called Coelia, and was thought to have 
come from heaven, or to rise thither. She had three 
daughters, well brought up. The two eldest, sober, 
chaste and wise, were unwedded, though betrothed. 
They were named Fidelia and Speranza. Charissa, 



142 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

the youngest, was married to a lovely fere, and had 
three children. 

When Una and the knight arrived at this remarka- 
ble he use, the door was locked, for as they had many 
foes, they were obliged to keep the door with great 
care, night and day ; but as soon as they knocked, 
the porter admitted them. He was an aged man, 
with a hoary head, and with looks bent downward. 
His gait was slow, and his step feeble. He was 
called Humility. The entrance to the house was 
very low and narrow, and they had to stoop low to 
get in ; but when once in, they found the court spa- 
cious, and exceedingly pleasant. The first person 
they met, was a franklin, whose manners were cour- 
teous, cheerful and free. He laboured hard in the 
cause of Holiness, and gladly guided all, who enter- 
ed the court till they reached the hall. This person's 
name was Zeal. When they reached the hall, they 
were received by a gentleman of mild demeanour, in 
a clean and becoming dress of dark cloth, who per- 
fectly understood how to receive people of all ranks. 
His name was Reverence, and though he used fair 
and respectful entreaties, all he said was true, un- 
feigned and sweet. He led the knight and Una to 
his lady, who was very aged, and always busy telling 
her beads. She rose with matronly grace to receive 
her guests, and as she knew that Una sprung from 
heavenly race, her heart was rejoiced and comforted 






OR HOLINESS. 143 

to see her, and, embracing her, she spake thus : i O 
happy earth, on which thine innocent feet tread ! 
Most virtuous maiden, who hast come to redeem thy 
woful parents from the rage of tyrants ; and who hast 
long traveled through a rugged world to benefit our 
race ; what grace has guided thy feet hither ? And 
strange it is to see an errant knight here. Very few 
choose this narrow way, or seek the right : but hurry 
on in the broad highway, prefering to risk life and 
happiness with the many, to coming here with the 
few. O foolish men ! why will they rush on certain 
ruin and decay ? * 

* I came hither,' replied Una, * to see you, sage ma- 
tron, and to rest my tired limbs ; and this good knight 
has come with me, because he has heard your praises 
so spread abroad, even to heaven.' 

The aged dame then greeted the knight modestly, 
and entertained them both with all the courtesies she 
could devise. As the three were conversing on sun- 
dry affairs, the two eldest daughters entered, locked 
arm in arm, in all the loveliness of sisterly affection. 
They walked exactly alike. Fidelia was arrayed in 
lily white, while sunny beams played over her trans- 
parent face, and threw around her head a light, like 
that from heaven. She bore, in her right hand, a 
cup of gold, filled with wine and water, in which a 
serpent had enfolded himself. It filled those that 
looked upon the cup, with horror, but she looked 



144 



LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 






upon it with composure. In her other hand, she held 
a book, signed and sealed with blood, in which were 
written many things, that people could not easily un- 
derstand. Speranza was dressed in blue, which 
became her wonderfully. See did not seem so 
cheerful as her sister. Whether dread or anguish 
dwelt in her heart, it was hard to tell. She had with 
her a silver anchor, upon which she almost always 
leaned. Her eyes were raised steadfastly to heaven, 
as if in prayer. The two fair creatures were rejoiced 
to see Una, and received the knight with modest 
courtesy. 

Soon they all began to converse on subjects befit- 
ing virtuous and enlightened women ; and the 
knight bore a part in the conversation, with a pro- 
priety and refinement, suited to his high rank, and 
his important office in the service of Gloriana. 
Una inquired for the younger sister, Charissa, and 
was told that she was not well enough to leave her 
room ; for that an infant son was added to her family. 
At length the aged Ccelia recommended that the 
weary travelers should retire for the night ; and 
called the groom of her chambers, to show the 
knight to his room. Obedience, for that was his 
name, immediately attended ; and conducting him to 
a most comfortable lodging, took off his armour, 
and respectfully left him to repose. 

The next day, Una requested Fidelia, who was an 



OR HOLINESS. 1 45 

instructress in all heavenly truths, to receive her 
knight as her pupil, that he might hear the wisdom 
of her divine words, be taught celestial discipline, 
and receive more light into his benighted mind. 
Fidelia granted her request, and communicated to 
the knight the contents of her sacred book. She 
taught him many things, that man could not have 
learned without this holy volume ; such as the char- 
acter of God, his grace, his justice, the free agency 
of man, and all that it concerns us to know of this 
world, or that which is to come. When Fidelia ex- 
erted the full power of her mighty energies, she 
could make the sun stand still, or turn back his 
course in heaven. Sometimes she could carry hosts 
of men, dry shod, across the parted floods, and move 
mountains from their native seat, and plunge them 
into the roaring ocean. 

The searching and soul-stirring truths made known 
to the knight by Fidelia, the guilt she discovered to 
him, and the crimes she set in array before his awa- 
kened conscience, almost drove him to despair; but 
the wise and gentle Speranza gave him comfort. 
She taught him how to take assured hold upon her 
silver anchor, and thus enabled him to support the 
sight of his own naked heart ; but notwithstanding 
all the efforts of the gentle Speranza, the knight was 
so distressed, that Una became alarmed, and applied 
to Ccelia for her advice respecting him. 
13 



146 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 






She, well understanding his case, for she had seen 
many laboring under the horrors of awakened con- 
science, said she would send to him a physician, 
named Patience, who would apply salves, and admin- 
ister medicines, that would mitigate his sufferings, 
and give him strength to bear his pains with fortitude. 
In effecting his entire cure, the physician had to 
use means very severe, for the cause of his anguish 
was an inward corruption, and the lady Una often 
tore her hair with agony, at witnessing the pangs he 
had to endure. Patience, however, carried him safe- 
ly through ; assisted by Repentance, who bathed him 
in salt water, healing and cleansing his lacerated 
body, and restoring health and vigour to his limbs. 

When Una received her knight, restored to youth- 
ful beauty, from the hands of these kind physicians, 
her joy was unspeakable, and she begged him to lay 
aside consuming thought, and walk abroad into the 
fresh air of heaven, to enjoy all the bliss of a cured 
conscience. She also intreated him to visit with her, 
the beautiful Charissa, whose grace and brilliant 
charms were scarcely equalled on earth ; and who 
was chaste and modest beyond compare. He yielded 
to her guidance, and they sought the lovely being. A 
multitude of lovely babes hung about her, sporting in 
happy infancy ; these she nourished at her breast, 
till they were grown, and then sent them forth, to 
study and act their parts, in works of benevolence 



OR HOLINESS. 147 

and love. She was seated in an ivory chair ; her 
dress was royal and magnificent ; she wore a tiara of 
gold upon her head, adorned with gems of immense 
value ; and, by her side, sate two gentle turtle doves. 
Una and the knight greeted her courteously, and 
wished for blessings on her and her lovely children. 
Una then prefered her request, begging Charissa to 
instruct her knight in love and righteousness, and to 
bid him shun wrath and hatred. Charissa gladly 
consented ; and after fulfilling, faithfully, her task, 
she taught him, besides, how to find the path that 
leads to heaven. To guide him in safety in this 
path, she gave him for a companion, a sober matron, 
named Mercy ; gracious and liberal she was always 
known to be, to all whom she took under her gui- 
dance, and whom she ever saved at last. Whenever 
his feet were encumbered by the thorns and briars of 
the way, or he began to shrink, or to stray from the 
right path, she would support and lead him as a care- 
ful nurse would support and lead a child entrusted 
to her care. 

In the course of his travels with this gentle guide, 
she brought him to an hospital in which seven holy 
men resided. Their gates were always open to the 
weary wayfaring stranger, and they kept one always 
at the gate, to invite in the poor and needy. The 
eldest of these men, was governor of the hospital, 
and superintended all the under officers of the estab- 



148 



LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 






lishment, seeing that strangers were properly enter- 
tained, and those that were poorest, and unable to 
return his hospitality, he feasted with redoubled 
kindness and generosity ; for he considered it a 
duty to feed those whom God had left poor, that the 
rich might, by doing good to them, exercise the 
noblest virtues, disinterestedness and humanity. 

The next oldest of these men, the governor ap- 
pointed to feed the hungry poor, and to give them 
drink, and he was called upon to do this out of his 
own income ; but he was so benevolent that he had 
no wish to hoard up money ; he was not afraid that 
God would leave him to starve ; and if by His grace 
he was prevented from wasting the riches He had 
bestowed upon him, he felt sure that his children 
would be cared for by their Almighty Father, even 
as he and they did their duty. He had enough, and 
even if he had had less, he would have given some 
to the poor. 

The third of these men had charge of the ward- 
robe ; in which were no useless garments, no finery 
unmeet for their rank, but clean and decent gar- 
ments, from which he daily clothed those who were 
naked. He could not see the images of God, cold 
and naked ; and if no clothes remained in the ward- 
robe, he would give his own coat. 

The duty of the fourth, was to relieve prisoners, 
and redeem captives taken by Turks and Saracens. 






OR HOLINESS. 149 

If they were faulty, he remembered that God forgave 
him, every hour, and perhaps for more than that for 
which they were held captive, and that in His great 
mercy, He was continually winning the guilty to 
virtue and to heaven. 

The fifth of these holy men attended the sick and 
dying, giving comfort, support, and instruction, in the 
hour of trial. He knew that as the tree falls, so it 
must lie, and he strove to impress the lessons of wis- 
dom, when the heart was humbled before its God, by 
pain and sickness. 

It became the duty of the sixth of this brotherhood, 
to take charge of the dead, to see that they were de- 
cently intered ; for he considered it a sin to deface 
the wondrous work of God ; and thought it a duty, 
that the face which He had made all beasts to fear, 
should be honored, even in death. 

The seventh was the friend and guide of tender 
orphans and desolate widows. He was fearless in 
their cause, dreading not the power of mighty men> 
but pleading, in the face of judgment, for their rights. 
Gold could not bribe him to do them wrong; 
and when they were poor and required aid, he gave 
them freely from his own Coffers. 

Charissa and Mercy were founders and patroness- 
es of this hospital ; therefore, when the knight ap* 
proached, under the care of Mercy, the governor 
gave them cordial welcome, and the best entertain* 
13 * 



150 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

ment was prepared for them. While Mercy remain- 
ed here with the knight, she gave him so much in- 
struction, in the great duties of alms-giving and char- 
ity, that he was able to form a perfect system, that 
required no alteration during his life. 

When they left the hospital, they ascended a very 
steep and high hill, on the top of which was an her- 
mitage. A holy man, named Contemplation, lived 
there ; and his whole business was to meditate on 
God and goodness. This aged man had nearly lost 
his eye sight, but he was filled with heavenly grace, 
so that his spirit with an eagle eye, could look upon 
the sun ; and even saw, in vision, the most high God. 
His snowy locks flowed over his aged shoulders, like 
hoar-frost bespangling the branches of an half dead 
oak ; he was extremely thin, for his mind was so in- 
tent on spiritual food, that he forgot the wants of his 
body. At the approach of Mercy and the Red Cross 
Knight, the old man was troubled, for he did not 
like to have his contemplations interrupted ; but he 
had such deep veneration for Mercy, that he re- 
ceived their respectful salutations with profound 
respect, and courteously inquired why they had 
climbed that tedious height ? 

' Is not this the only way to heaven,' said Mercy, 
$nd can we reach that glorious world, always bright 
with burning stars and living fire, by any aid but 
yours ? Fidelia has entrusted you with the keys of 






OR HOLINESS. 151 

that eternal world, and commands you to unlock, and 
shew it to this knight.' 

* Thrice happy man,' said the grave father, ' that 
has thee for a guide ! Who can better show him 
the way to heaven than thou ; thou who wast born 
and bred in heaven, where thousands of angels shine 
in ever-during lustre ? It is thou, who presentest, 
before the divine majesty of heaven, the praises of 
the righteous, and pleadest for clemency towards of- 
fending man. Yes, since thou commandest, I will 
obey. Come, thou man of earth, and see the way, 
never before seen, by faerie's son ; a way, that will 
never lead you wrong ; but after long labours and 
delays, will bring you to joyous rest and endless 
bliss ; but first you must fast and pray, that your 
spirit may be purified and strengthened for the sight. 

After that duty was performed, the old man led 
him to a lofty mountain, high as Sinai, whereon 
Moses received the law from the hand of God ; or as 
that, adorned with fruitful olives, where our blessed 
Lord was so often found ; or as Parnassus, on which 
the Muses tune their heavenly notes, and make 
many lovely lays. Thence he bade him look along 
a steep and narrow path, to where a goodly city rose 
in the distance. The strong towers and high walls 
were of pearl and precious stones, which no human 
tongue could describe. It was the city of the great 
king, in which dwelt eternal peace and happiness. 



1 



152 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 



Angels were seen, ascending and descending, and 
passing to and fro within the walls. The knight 
was astonished, and began to inquire what stately 
buildings dared extend their towers to the starry- 
heaven, and what unknown nation had peopled so 
wondrous a place ? 

' Fair knight,' replied his guide, ' that is the New 
Jerusalem, which God has built for his chosen peo- 
ple to dwell in ; and all whom the lamb of God has 
redeemed, will dwell there.' 

' Till now,' said the knight, i I believed that Cleo- 
polis, the city of the Faerie Queen, was the brightest 
thing on earth ; but now I have proof, that towers of 
chrystal, cannot compare with the diamonds, whereof 
the angels' towers are built. This great city surpass- 
es all that mortal eye hath seen.* 

* Most true,' replied Contemplation, ' yet, for an 
earthly city, Cleopolis is the fairest that eye of man 
has seen. Its queen is heavenly-born, and every 
true knight, that would be enrolled in the book of 
immortal fame, must do service to that sovereign 
princess. And remember, sir knight, that you, 
though accounted the son of a faerie, are of English 
race, and are well worthy to render her service, by 
aiding this forlorn and desolate maiden, in liberating 
her parents from unjust bondage. But when this 
victory is won, hang up your shield and thenceforth 
shun all conquests ; for to shed blood is always a sin, 






OR HOLINESS. 153 

and wars yield only sorrow. Then seek this path, 
which will lead to heaven. Go on to the New Jeru- 
salem, a blessed end awaits you there ; for among 
those saints which you see there, you are to be num- 
bered, — your own nation's friend and patron, St. 
George of merry England.' 

' What,' replied the knight, ' I, an unworthy wretch ? 
Can such grace be reserved for me ? How dare I 
hope to attain this glory !' 

i Those that have attained it,' said his guide, ' were 
in the same case as you have been ; they were as 
wretched, and endured as much pain.' 

* But,' inquired the knight, i must I give up deeds 
of arms, and the love of fair ladies ? ' 

' What need will you have of arms,' said the old 
man, ' where eternal peace reigns, where no battles 
are to be fought ; and as for unholy loves — O ! they 
are worse than vain, and vanish into nothing.' 

' Why, then,' said the knight, ' should I return back 
to the world ? let me remain here, and pass directly 
to that heavenly city.' 

' That may not be,' replied Contemplation ; i you 
must not forget the cause of that royal maiden, whom 
you have promised to defend, and whose foe you 
have engaged to destroy. We must not leave the 
path of duty, if we wish to find the path to heaven.' 

' Then,' said the knight, ' if God gives me grace, 
I will soon redeem my pledge to that disconsolate 






154 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE. 



lady, and return a pilgrim to this place. Now tell 
me, holy father, why you said I was born of English 
blood, when all men call me the son of a faerie.' 

< Thou didst spring,' he replied, < from the race of 
Saxon kings. 37 During the terrible battles, which 
established thy throne in Britain, thou wast stolen 
by a faerie from thy cradle, in which she placed one 
of her base elfin brood. She brought you to faerie 
land, and hid you in a field. A ploughman who 
was toiling with his plough, found you, and reared 
you as a ploughman's son, giving you the name of 
George. But your native pride and courage began 
soon to appear, and you presented yourself at the 
court of Gloriana to seek for fame, and prove your 
arms in all that befits a warlike knight.' 

1 Thanks to thee, holy sire,' said the knight, ' how 
shall I repay thee for all thy favours. Thou hast 
told me my name and nation ; and taught me the 
way to heaven.' 

He then turned, intending to go down the hill 
again, to where he had left Una ; but his eyes were 
so dazzled by the glories upon which he had been 
gazing, that he was quite confounded, and his feeble 
senses almost forsook him. His eyes could discern 
nothing upon the earth, as he looked down; so 
dark are the things of this world, compared to those 
of heaven. 

In time, however, his eye became accustomed to 



OR HOLINESS. 155 

the objects around him, and he returned to Una, 
giving to the good old man, who had done so much 
for him, both thanks and reward. Una received 
him joyfully and urged his attention to the promise he 
had made her. After a few hours rest, they took leave 
of Ccelia and her daughters, and set forth on their 
journey. 



CHAPTER XI. 



The knight with that old dragon rights 

Two days incessantly; 
The third, him overthrows, and gains 

Most glorious victory. 



It was now full time for the fair Una to think 
only of her captive parents, and their ruined kingdom. 
And when they drew near to her own territories, she 
modestly addressed the knight. 'My dear lord, as 
dear as ever knight was dear, may high heaven behold 
the toil you endure for my sake ! We have now 
reached my native soil, and the place, where all our 
perils dwell. These are the haunts of the fiend. 
Be on your guard ; awaken the spark of noble courage ; 
and strive to excel your excellent self, and be more 
renowned than any knight that does battle on earth. 
Yonder is the brazen tower, in which my parents are 
imprisoned. I see them now, even at this distance, 
on the walls. And on the top of the tower I see a 
watchman, anxiously looking out to see if I am 
bringing you to their rielief. ' 

As she spoke, they heard a hideous roaring, that 
filled the air with terror, and shook the ground ; and 
14 



158 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

immediately, the dreadful dragon appeared in view 
He was stretched upon the sunny side of a huge hill, 
and appeared himself like another hill. The monster 
was roused by the knight's arms, glistening with light 
from heaven, and he rushed upon him, as soon as he 
had placed Una in safety, on a neighbouring hill. 

And now, O sacred muse, fair child of Phoebus, 
nurse of time and of everlasting fame, that ennobles 
warriors with immortality, O, come into my breast ; 
but come gently. Not with the mighty rage where- 
with you rouse armies to mortal combat, enraging 
heroes, so that nothing on earth can assuage their 
kindled courage ; not with the fierce fire with which 
you rouse the god of War, and fill whole nations with 
stern horror. Fair goddess, lay aside such fury, till 
I sing of wars, that will die the fields of Britain with 
the blood of Saracens ; wars between the great faerie 
queene and the pagan king, which will be a work 
worthy of all praise. Let down, for a while, thy 
haughty string to humbler tunes, while I sing the feats 
of a godly man, in the cause of truth and holiness. 

The terrible dragon drew near to the noble knight, 
half flying, and half on foot, so eager was his haste. 
He was so large, that he looked like a mountain shad- 
owing the land, and reared his monstrous body, as high 
as its vast size, swollen with wrath and poison, would 
permit. His scales looked like brass, and were so 
compact that it appeared no mortal blade could pierce 






OR HOLINESS. 359 

them. These scales, he raised as an eagle does its 
plumes, when about to pounce upon its prey ; and 
they clashed like steel armour. It was horrible to 
hear their sound. And when he displayed his 
enormous wings, like the sails of a ship, that had 
power to bear him through the air with a rapidity 
which caused the heavens to stand still, amazed at 
his power and vastness, it seemed as if no human 
strength could cope with so unequal a foe. Nor was 
this all, for his tail, three furlongs in length, was armed 
with deadly stings ; his claws were of unheard-of 
strength ; his eyes like burning coals ; and his devour- 
ing jaws gaped, like the gates of the infernal world, 
and showed his iron teeth. 

The Red Cross Knight trembled as he drew near; 
but instantly couched his lance, and ran upon him 
with exceeding force. The monster's hide, how- 
ever, was impenetrable ; and more enraged by so pow- 
erful a blow, he dashed man and horse to the ground 
by one brush of his tail. But horse and man were 
up again on the instant; and the knight struck 
another blow ; which proved as useless as the first. 
The beast felt that he struck with a force superior 
to any one who had ever attacked him ; and spread- 
ing his vast wings, he rose upon the yielding air, 
soaring around ; then he suddenly stooped low, and 
snatched up horse and man, in his enormous talons. 
He bore them to a great distance, but they struggled 



160 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

violently, and he was obliged to let them drop ; and 
the knight once more tried his thrillant spear, giving 
to the stroke the strength of three men ; and this 
time he wounded the creature close under his left 
wing. He cried, loud as raging seas are wont to 
roar, when the storms of winter threaten the mighty 
ocean, and bear its billows against some rock bound 
coast; or all the blustering brethren of the sky 
seem determined to move the world from off its 
hinges. The steel head of the lance remained stick- 
ing in the wound, till the dragon tore it thence with 
his own claws, and a river of black blood rushed 
forth, that would turn a water mill, and floated the 
ground on which he stood. This trebly augmented 
his fury, and he wound his hideous tail so tightly 
around the knight's horse, that the noble creature, 
in striving to extricate himself, threw his rider. St. 
George sprang up instantly, indignant at having so 
disgracefully fallen in a place so drenched in the 
monster's blood ; and after a long and terrible con- 
flict, in which, faint, weary, sore, grieved, and burnt 
with heat, he many times longed for death to ease 
his anguish, the dragon again struck him to the 
earth with his tremendous tail. 

It happened that behind the knight, there was a 
remarkable well, which from ancient times sprung 
here, and trickled forth like a silver flood, full of 
great and medicinal virtues ; and, before the dragon 



OR HOLINESS. 161 

infested the place and defiled its sacred wave with 
innocent blood, it was called the well of life. It 
even now retained some of its former virtues ; for it 
could restore the dead to life, and wash from the 
guilty their blackest crimes. It could restore health 
to the diseased, and make the aged and infirm, even 
as one new-born. No river, ancient or modern, 
equalled this, and when the dragon beat to the 
earth our good knight, he fell into its healing streams. 
Golden Phoebus now began to bathe his fiery face 
in the billows of the west, and to water in the deep 
ocean his fainting steeds ; and the infernal monster, 
seeing that the knight had fallen into the well, erect- 
ed his discoloured breast above his wonted pitch, 
and clapped his huge wings in triumph. 

Una saw from her distant hill this triumphant 
movement of the dragon, and feared that her lover 
was destroyed. She prayed fervently to God for 
support, and that he would preserve her from so 
great misfortune. With bended knees and folded 
hands she watched and prayed all that long night. 
As soon as the day dawned, she rose from her place, 
to see if she could behold her beloved knight ; for 
whose safety she had greatly feared, ever since she 
saw him fall before the dragon. At last, to her 
unspeakable joy, she saw him start up from the well, 
fresh as an eagle out of the ocean wave ; or like a 
eyas-hawk, who mounts to the sky, to try his newly 
14* 



162 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

budded pinions, and marvel at himself; so now, this 
new-born knight arose to renew the battle. 

The dragon was astonished, and doubted whether 
it was his late enemy, or some one who had taken 
his place. The knight, however, left him no time 
for conjecture, but struck him so powerfully upon 
his head, that it was laid open to the scull, and he 
was stunned for a time. I know not whether the 
steel was hardened with the holy water, or whether 
his arm and hand were strengthened by the virtues 
of the sacred waves; but it is certain that no mortal 
arm or blade could ever before wound this terrible 
beast, nor could he be charmed by any subtlety of 
magic power. Agonized by pain, and enraged at 
the man who had dared inflict the wound, he roared 
terrifically, and with strokes of his fearful tail, threw 
down trees, and beat to pieces the surrounding 
rocks. 

It is needless to relate all the horrors of this dreadful 
conflict, in which the beast called to his aid the 
assistance of flauie, and the suffocating fumes of 
brimstone, which so overpowered the knight, that 
he recoiled backward, and finally fell prone upon 
the slippery, blood drenched earth. It chanced that 
a goodly tree grew near the spot, loaded with deli- 
cious fruit, which possessed great virtues. It gave 
everlasting life to all who fed upon it. God had 
planted the tree, with his own almighty hand, and 



OR HOLINESS. 163 

called it the tree of life. Near to it stood another 
tree, the fruit of which imparted a knowledge of 
good and ill to all who eat of it. Oh mournful 
memory ! One man by eating it brought death upon 
all mankind. Till the entrance of this dragon, all 
good things grew spontaneously in this land, as 
uncorrupted nature planted them; and still, from 
the tree of life, a stream of balm flowed continually, 
so that the plain looked as if bathed in fresh dew. 
Into this stream the knight fell ; and it saved him 
from death, healing all his wounds and renewing 
his strength. The beast dared not approach this 
stream ; for he was made to die, and hated every 
thing that gave immortal life. 

Day light now began to fade, and yield his room 
to sad succeeding night, who began to hang high 
her torch in heaven. Una saw the knight fall; 
weary, and faint from loss of blood. He lay, as in a 
dream of deep delight, covered with the precious 
balm ; but she, who did not know of this, was again 
alarmed for his safety ; and watched, and prayed 
the whole of that noisome night. The day appeared 
early ; and fair Aurora began to raise herself from 
the dewy bed of Tithones, with cheeks blushing 
rosy red. Her golden locks hung loosely about her 
face, when Una saw her ascend her chariot, covered 
with flowers, to chase darkness from the face of 
heaven, and listen to the merry salute of the mount- 



164 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 






ing lark. The knight, too, rose up fresh ; and healed 
of all his hurts. When the dragon beheld him 
again, risen as it were from death ; he began to fear 
for his own safety; but still his unbounded rage 
urged him to attempt his destruction at once, and it 
was now his hope to swallow him. Opening his 
jaws, therefore, to their widest extent, he sprang 
fiercely upon the knight, who being prepared for 
the attack, stepped suddenly back ; and, taking ad- 
vantage of the open mouth, plunged his sword into 
the dark cavern, and drew back the blade with the 
dragon's life-blood. 

He fell ; the earth groaned beneath him. He fell, 
like a huge rock, whose foundations have been swept 
away; with a mighty flood, that brought the enor- 
mous mass, at once^into the boiling ocean. 

The knight himself trembled at his fall, so huge 
and horrible a mass it seemed^ and Una who beheld 
the scene from afar, dared not approach ; but when 
after much time, she saw that the fiend did not stir, 
she drew nigh ; praised God for his goodness, and 
thanked her faithful knight, who had achieved for 
her, this mighty conquest. 38 



CHAPTER XII. 



Fair Una to the Red Cross Knight 

Betrothed is with joy ; 
Though false Duessa it to barre 

Her false slights doth employ. 



I see the haven is nigh at hand, to which I mean 
to bend my course, where the fair Una will be safely 
landed after the storms and dangers she has encoun- 
tered. Phoebus had hardly harnessed his fiery footed 
coursers, in the glooming east, nor had yet reared 
his flaming crest above the earth, before the watch- 
man on the castle tower saw the monstrous dragon 
expiring. He called loudly to his lord and lady, 
and told the joyful event. They rose in haste, and 
with feeble speed, the aged king hastened to the 
battlements, to see if indeed it could be true. When 
he was sure that the dreaded beast was dead, he 
ordered his brazen # gates to be thrown wide open, 
and proclaimed peace and joy throughout the land. 
Trumpets were sounded, and heaven re-echoed the 
note of victory. The people assembled in solemn 
feast ; and in full concert, rejoiced at the fall of the 
great dragon, who had so long held them in oppres- 
sive bondage. 



166 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

The aged king and queen then arrayed themselves 
in antique robes, that swept the ground ; and a noble 
court of sage and sober lords and ladies, clad in like 
flowing robes, attended on their persons. Around 
the hall of state were ranged tall young men, able 
to bear arms ; but now holding branches of laurel 
in sign of victory and peace. These distinguished 
people went forth in a body, to greet the knight. 
They prostrated themselves before him, and pro- 
claimed him their lord and patron. To them suc- 
ceeded a chorus of beautiful maidens, decked with 
garlands of fresh flowers, and holding high their 
timbrels in their hands. Then came the sportive 
children. The maidens sung and played in most 
joyous measures, till they came where the royal Una 
stood, fair as Diana among her gay and sporting 
nymphs. She smiled with great sweetness, when 
the lovely band approached her and knelt with 
humility at her feet. They sang her praises, as if 
they would raise her to heaven in everlasting fame ; 
and forming a crown of laurel leaves, placed it on 
her head. She indeed looked like what she was, a 
lovely maiden queen. 

The multitude began to assemble from all the 
surrounding country, in rude joy, to gaze upon the 
wonderful man, who had achieved such a victory. 
They admired him as one sent from heaven, and 
gazed upon him with gaping wonder. When they 



OR HOLINESS. 167 

came near to the spot on which the dragon lay 
extended, they feared and trembled, though he was 
dead, and did not dare to approach or touch him. 
Some fled in terror. Others advised those near 
them not to touch the monster, for fear some life 
yet remained, or that some young dragonets might 
be concealed within his enormous carcase. Another 
said, fire yet sparkled in his eyes, and they must 
take heed, for he certainly moved them. Mothers 
dared not let their children touch his dead talons, 
lest he should scratch the tender creatures. While 
some, more courageous, approached near enough to 
measure the monster, and to see how many acres of 
ground he covered. 

While the astonished and half fearful crowd sur- 
rounded the body, the hoary and venerable king, 
with his train, came towards the champion, with 
princely gifts of ivory and gold, and thousand thanks. 
He then folded his long absent daughter to his 
heart, and kissed again and again this cherished 
darling of his age. 39 

The grand procession then proceeded to the pal- 
ace, with trumpets, songs of triumph, and various 
instruments, whose clarion notes rung loud, yet 
sweet, over hill and mountain. The multitude 
spread their garments on the paved streets, and led 
on with shouts of victory to the court of the royal 
palace, the floor of which was covered with rich 



168 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

cloth of costly scarlet. A bountiful entertainment 
was soon prepared, in which every thing suitable 
for the occasion was served in a style magnificent, 
but plain. Excellent discourse, chaste wit, and pure 
sentiment, distinguished the royal feast ; for, in an- 
cient times, the world hated excess, and pride, and 
luxurious pomp. These are evils that have swollen 
up in modern times. 

The venerable king entertained his guest by relat- 
ing the wonderful history of his own life ; and then 
begged to hear that of the noble knight. The request 
was granted, and tears of real sympathy and sorrow 
for his sufferings, bathed the cheeks of all the hearers. 
' My dear son,' said the royal pair, ' you have borne 
much, and we know not whether most to pity or to 
praise you. Surely never man was plunged in such 
a sea of danger and distress ; but you have found 
the shore, have arrived well : God be blest ! Now 
let us talk of happier times, that rest, due to perse- 
vering effort in the cause of Holiness.' 

' Ah, dearest lord,' replied the knight, ' I must not 
yet think of ease or rest, I am bound by the laws of 
knighthood, to return to the great Gloriana, to bear 
arms in her service, for six years, against the pagan 
king.' The aged monarch was much grieved to 
hear this; but he knew that vow must be fulfilled, 
and, after expressing his sorrow at the necessity, 
he told him, that after the six years were expired, 






OR HOLINESS. 169 

he should expect him to return to celebrate his mar- 
riage with Una. 'I covet it much,' said the old 
king, c for I wish to have it proclaimed to the whole 
world, that he, who killed that fell monster should 
have my only daughter, and be heir to my kingdom. 
Both of which I now yield to you, with joy freely.' 

The king commanded that Una should be sent 
for ; she came at her father's bidding, with a sober 
cheerfulness upon, her beaming brow. She looked 
like the morning star, when it appears in the eastern 
heaven, to bring the world its long wished for light. 
She was so fresh and fair, that the freshest flowers 
of May could not be more lovely. She had lain 
aside the mournful vei], and all the widow like orna- 
ments that she had worn in her weary journies, and 
had arrayed herself in purest white, that looked like 
silk and silver, yet it was not wrought of either. 
But to describe the blazing brightness of her charms, 
the glorious light of her sun beaming face, were 
impossible. One might as well strive against the 
stream, as to describe with mortal pen such heavenly 
lineaments. Even the knight, who had for so long 
a time been accustomed to see her daily, was aston- 
ished at the celestial vision. She bowed in lowly 
reverence to her father, which added a matchless 
grace to her loveliness. 

Her father, gravely, and with much wisdom had 
began to speak, when, rushing with the speed of a 
15 



170 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

man dismayed, a messenger entered the hall with 
letters. The whole court stood amazed and won- 
dering at his breathless haste ; for nothing could 
check his passage till he reached the king, before 
whom he prostrated himself, and kissed the ground. 
He then presented the letter, which the king read ; 
it ran as follows : 

' To the most mighty king of Eden. The daughter 
of the great emperor of the west bids thee be advised 
not to link thy daughter in holy wedlock to the 
stranger knight; for he has already plighted his 
right hand to another love, in another land. He 
has long been affianced to me, and given and receiv- 
ed sacred pledges ; therefore, sovereign prince, with- 
hold your hand from knitting league with him. I 
warn you not to presume upon my weakness, though 
widowed and full of woe ; for truth is strong, and, 
if she requires, will find friends. Fides s a.' 

The king sat for sometime in mute astonishment. 
At last he broke silence, and fixing a doubtful eye 
upon his guest, said, ' Redoubted knight, Tyou have 
for my sake adventured life and honour ; let nothing 
be hid from me that ought to be expressed. What 
is meant by this letter ? To whom are you pledged ? 
If, sir knight, you are faulty, if you have wrapped 
yourself in love, for some former dame, do not cover 
it with crime, disclose all.' 



OR HOLINESS. 171 

The Red Cross Knight replied, 'My lord, my 
king, do not be dismayed at what this woman 
writes. It was my misfortune, that, during my wan- 
derings, this false woman, who calls herself Fidessa, 
though Duessa is her real name, found me. She 
was royally arrayed, and with a skill that no earthly 
power could withstand, betrayed me, when I least 
suspected evil. 

Una, now advanced to the throne, and prostrat- 
ing herself before her father, said to him, ' O pardon 
me, my sovereign, if I undertake to show the secret 
treasons wrought by that false sorceress. It was 
she, who threw this gentle knight into such distress, 
that death seemed his only relief ; and now she has 
suborned this crafty messenger to work more woe, 
by breaking the band that unites us twain. This 
false footman, is no other than Archimago, the falsest 
man alive ; examine him and see.' 

Her father was greatly moved, and commanded 
his officers to seize and bind the messenger, who 
became like a chained bear, struggling and roaring 
to be freed. But they forced him into a deep dun- 
geon and bound him hand and foot with iron chains ; 
and set a constant guard to watch him, lest he should 
by some art, escape the death he deserved. 

This done, the king went forward with the mar- 
riage contract, and his daughter and the knight were 
united with sacred vows and rites. In accordance 



172 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 

with the manners of that age^ the king himself tied 
the holy knot, which joined the lovers ; sprinkled on 
the household fire the holy water ; and placed, in a 
secret chamber, the sacred lamp, where it burnt day 
and night to ward off evil fates. His attendants then 
sprinkled wine upon all the door-posts, and prepared 
a solemn marriage feast, all the guests perfuming 
themselves with frankincense and other precious 
odors ; and music and song added joy and gaiety to 
the entertainment. During the festivities, the com- 
pany were suddenly surprised by a burst of rich and 
heavenly harmony, that seemed to be the voice of 
angels, singing before the eternal Majesty. No one 
knew whence it came, but all were ravished and al- 
most bereft of sense by such unwonted melody and 
power of sound. 

Nor did the royal pair, or the bride and bridegroom 
confine the joy to the precincts of the palace. Orders 
were given that old and young should have liberty to 
join in feast and dance throughout the kingdom, and 
rejoice at the happy marriage of their lovely princess. 
After enjoying, for many weeks, the delightful socie- 
ty of his matchless lady, and realizing the happiness, 
of having, through much toil and suffering to himself, 
destroyed a monster, that had long been the terror 
and destruction of thousands, and the spoiler of the 
fairest country on earth, St. George resolved to per- 
form his promise to the faerie queen, to whom he had 



OR HOLINESS. 173 

engaged to return, when the dragon was destroyed. 
So, making his intentions known to the king and 
queen, and taking a tender leave of his beautiful 
bride, he left her mourning, and returned to Glo- 
riana's court. 40 



APPENDIX. 



APPENDIX 

OF NOTES. 

CHAPTER I. 

1. Does not the Sense of honor and moral obligation 
feel like an Oath sworn by the Soul before its date of 
memory ? And is that deeply engraven oath ever 
found to be any thing less, than to destroy the evils 
which lay waste the spirit of man, both within our- 
/ selves, and without, on the arena of social life ? 
/ 2. This armour is as old as our era. Vide St. Paul, 
passim. 

3. When is the strong and lofty tempered Will of youth 
seen so beautiful, as when it yields to the strict re- 
straining hand of a stern Self respect ? 

4. Who but the Christian knight may restore Truth to 
/ her native Paradise, and wed her for his everlasting 

bride ? 

5. Shall true glory never live nearer to us than the 
Faerie Land of Imagination ? Then let us all go 
thither, and receive her commands. 

- 6. Is the Dwarf — prudence ? He must needs be some 
intellectual drudge, but he does good service. 
7* Is not this Wandering Wood, the shaded land of 
Study ; where all the various faculties of intellect 
flourish, each for itself, and without general aim or 
purpose ? Here, indeed, the beaten path leads ever 
to the cave of Error ! 



/ 



176 APPENDIX. 

8. With the voice of Truth to inspire, from whose love 
the young heart has never swerved, the young spirit 
shall surely not be overcome by Error. 

9. When the Principle is conquered, the offspring errors, 
lose their power to harm, though they will annoy, till 
their parent is absolutely destroyed, which consumma- 
tion they will not long survive, for they feed on noth- 
ing but her life. 

10. So self-subsistent is the principle of Holiness, that 
it would be true to itself, even though Truth's beloved 
form, should counsel it to stoop below its own spiritual 
instincts. The soul does not wait upon the intellect, 
for its principle of purity. It has its own independent 
moral sensibility. 

CHAPTER II. 

11. Alas ! for the holy hearted ! that they are not exempt 
from hasty judgment ! So is Truth deserted, because . 
Hypocrisy says she is false. 

12. There is a Prudence that waits upon Passion, at least 
for a time. 

13. God deserts not his wayward son, but follows him 
with his truth in all his wanderings. But it is long 
before the gentle and quiet spirit may overtake the 
angry heart of indignant youth ! 

14. Does not Duessa embody the externals of the Church 
of Rome ; found, at first, in the company of Paganism, 
and too soon and unsuspiciously adopted by the 
Christian Church — whom it led — oh whither ? 

15. "Be thou as pure as ice, as chaste as snow 
Thou shalt not escape calumny." 






APPENDIX. 177 

CHAPTER III. 

16. The Brute strength of man sinks before the power of 
woman's loveliness, and takes up her defence, as high- 
est honor. This is still nobler than Milton's view, in 
that exquisite passage, where Adam says of Eve, 

' c When I approach 
Her loveliness, so absolute she seems, 
And in herself complete, so well to know 
Her own, that what she wills to do or say 
Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best j 
All higher knowledge in her presence falls 
Degraded ; Wisdom in discourse with her 
Loses, discountenanced, and like Folly shows. 
Authority and reason on her wait 
As one intended first." 

But Spencer " knows not seems" Una is more than 
Eve. Innocence and truth melt into one, to form 
ideal woman, before whom bow the Lionhearted, in 
the service that elevates the very quality of their 
nature. But Truth acknowledges no lover, save em- 
bodied Holiness. 

17. Superstition is blind, and her daughter Ignorance is 
low. Well may they receive the robber of the church 
as son-in-law and lover ! 

18. When the lion of the People wakes up to the con- 
sciousness of his power, and has just torn in pieces 
the night-robber of the church — well may Ignorance 
and Superstition tremble. Their days are numbered! 

19. How many hypocritical champions of Truth, are 
< unveiled in the battle ! 

20. Alas ! for Truth and Innocence, when lion hearted 
Manliness is subdued by Lawlessness ! 



178 APPENDIX. 

CHAPTER IV. 

21 . The rightful queen is Dignity. And her palace is 
founded on a rock. 

22. Alas ! that Holiness should ever so forget his nature, 
, as to become a courtier in the House of Pride. 

23. Not even when affianced to Falsehood, and in the 
House of Pride, may Holiness quite forget himself, or 
fail to feel disgust at her loathsome attendants, and 
wild revelry. 

CHAPTER V. 

24. So is Holiness beguiled with vain glorious Pride, 
and under her auspices fights with joylessness, and 
does not come off unhurt. 

CHAPTER VI. 

25. The first Falsehood in the long train of evil is not 
easily detected. He does not yet suspect her who 
guided him to the house of Pride. 

26. When Truth had lost her christian champion, who 
was taken to the house of Pride by the gilded false- 
hood of Romish trappings ; and Manliness, lion heart 
though he was, had yielded her, with his life, to 
Lawlessness — what could she do but flee from the 
courts of degenerate Civilization, and seek retreat 
with the rustics of the wild woods, who in their sim- 
plicity, worshipped without understanding her, and 
whom she taught her heavenly lore. But who is Sa- 
tyrane ? 



APPENDIX. 179 

CHAPTER VII. 

27. Only the seduction of Falsehood could make the 
christian knight forget that he is out upon a great 
adventure ; nor has any time to rest unarmed by the 
fountains of self abandonment. 

28. Does not this Italian name glance at the influence of 
Rome in England ? St. George has not yet repented 
of the pride of the flesh, from whose dominions he had 
just escaped. He was therefore weak, an easy prey 
to the pride of a spiritual hierarchy. Thus ever does 
animal self indulgence betray man to spiritual bon- 
dage. 

ty/ 29. When Christianity entered that dungeon, Prudence 
had departed ; who, seeking, found Truth wandering 
alone, without her defence of the Red Cross. Well 
might she faint, though heaven descended, when she 
saw the armour and the courser of her champion, 
without the living man who had wielded the one, and 
guided the other so nobly ! 

30. Is not Prince Arthur the Ideal of English character, 
that now comes to the rescue of the enslaved Actual, 
represented by St. George ? And Merlin's gifts, — are 
they not the endowments of Genius; a beautiful aid 
to the heroic friend of deserted Truth, in the recovery 
of her Red Cross Knight, from the Italian giant's 
dungeon ! 

CHAPTER VIII. 

31. What means prince Arthur's esquire, and his won- 
drous bugle ? Would he remind us that ' there's a 
divinity in the soul of state,' and that by one blast of 



180 APPENDIX. 

Magna Charta, the prison doors of Romish Hierarchy 
were set open ? Then rushed gilded Falsehood forth, 
• seated upon her seven headed beast, and all but de- 
stroyed the state ; but then her gifted Genius saved 
that faithful friend and servant. 

32. That shield : was it the Intellectual prowess of En- 
glish Genius ; or her still holier spirit of Martyrdom ? 
Whether it was the one or the other, the bladder 
blown Hierarchy fell before it, destroyed in inward 
Principle, as well as outward form. 

33. Alas ! her very spoils corrupted her conquerors ! Let 
Falsehood's trappings ever go with Falsehood; they 
are infected by her nature. 

34. Orgoglio had made the national church his palace. 
Ignorance had been its porter, till English genius now 
took from him the keys. Then was St. George set at 
liberty ; and seducing Falsehood, being displayed to 
him in her naked deformity, the knights went in to 
the purified sanctuary, and refreshed themselves with 
Truth. 

CHAPTER IX. 

35. There is hardly a more interesting Guest of philo- 
sophic Truth, than to trace from its unknown, but 
doubtless human origin, through its infant residence in 
the land of imagination, and its education in arms, 
with occasional visitations from Genius, the Ideal of 
English Virtue. 

36. No love short of Gloriana herself contents the Ideal 
hero. She conquered his heart in a day dream, but 
is sought on the theatre of actual life, and must be 
wooed and wedded there. 



APPEND IX. 



181 



37. When the soul is suffering already from a sense of 
guilt, aggravated by the sophistry of despair, it is the 
proof of the fiend that he brings painted devils to 
scare away the last remnant of human fortitude !- Yet 
such fiends sometimes take the place of christian 
shepherds. 

CHAPTER X. 

38. The history of the Actual English character from its 
Saxon ancestry, is the counterpart of the philosophy 
of the Ideal, given by prince Arthur. St. George 
was found in a plough field, whence he drew his name, 
and where he lived till sent to learn chivalry, from 
whose courts he set forth, as the champion of Truth, 
against Evil ; and won his place among the Saints, — 
St. George of merry England. 

CHAPTER XI. 

^/&9. So shall the christian knight ever succeed, who 
fights for Truth, in her own cheering presence. If he 
falls, it is into the well of Prayer, or the balm stream 
of heavenly Meditation ; whence he rises each morn- 
ing, refreshed, until he conquers. 

CHAPTER XII. 

40. When Truth triumphs by the power of Holiness, 
Paradise returns ; and the king of Eden reveals him- 
self her parent, and folds her on his breast. 

41. Wedded to Truth, and emparadised, Holiness no 
longer fights with personal enemies ; but goes forth to 



182 APPENDIX. 

assist his brother faerie knights, even as the Ideal Vir- 
tue assisted him. But unlike prince Arthur, St. 
George is peaceful at heart, in the full possession of a 
divine and faithful wife, secured forever in the para- 
dise regained of virtuous home. 



N. B. Etymology of Names. 

George, Agriculture, 

Una, One, single. 

Archimago, Arch magician. 

Fidessa, , Faithful. 

Duessa, Double minded. 

Fradubio, Doubtful minded. 

Fralissa, Fragile. 

Malvenu, Unwelcome. 

Sansfoy, Without faith. 

Sansloy, Without law. 

Sansjoy, Without happiness.) 

Coelia, Heavenliness. 

Fidelia, Faith. 

Speranza, Hope. 

Charissa, Charity. 






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